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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23725612">Call Me a Romantic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/drarryangels/pseuds/drarryangels'>drarryangels</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Angst, Anxiety, Books, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Eventual Smut, Flowers, Fluff, Gardens &amp; Gardening, Harry Potter Has a Crush on Draco Malfoy, Horseback Riding, Horses, Idiots in Love, If you know me there will be lemons somewhere in here, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, James Potter &amp; Lily Evans Potter Live, Language of Flowers, Lemons, Letters, Light Smut, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Romantic Fluff, Sirius Black &amp; Remus Lupin Live, There's kinda plot but mostly just idiot boys, Wooing, countryside AU, failed wooing perhaps, it's practically drarry tradition at this point, jily and wolfstar but mostly just drarry, letter writing, like severe anxiety, no magic, the Malfoy family sucks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:55:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,196</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23725612</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/drarryangels/pseuds/drarryangels</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy's family is rich. Some of it's family money, and some of it's horse racing, and maybe some of it's not exactly legal. Draco has never not been rich, and his parents think he's quite stuck up, never mind their own enjoyment of luxuries and easy living. So they decide to send an unwilling Draco off to one of their distant estates on the country side with the intent for Draco to have some humility knocked into him. Of course, they don't bother to come along. </p><p>Luckily enough for Draco, the stable hand at the estate is horridly handsome and smiles far too much for Draco's taste. Nonetheless, the stable hand, Harry Potter, simply won't leave Draco alone. He smiles, takes Draco for horseback lessons, teaches him to make soap, walks with him around the gardens, the list goes on. </p><p>Honestly, if Draco didn't know better, he'd think Harry Potter was <i>wooing</i> him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>159</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For unexplained reasons and unclear timelines, phones are a thing in this AU, but email and mobiles are most decidedly not. You either ring the phone or write a letter. My romantical dreams will live on.</p><p>Thank you for the prompt on Tumblr!</p><p>Pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/romanticalrj/cmar/</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Luggage clattered in through the corridors of the train and Draco pulled his compartment door shut with a tight snap before scraping his trunk onto the rack above the seats. He should’ve asked an attendant to take care of it, but Draco was too irritated to allow thoughtfulness to get in his way at this point in the day. It was eleven in the morning, and Draco already had too much hardship to deal with on top of asking a dunder headed attendant to move his luggage without denting it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A voice tapped in through the glass and chattering seeped through the cracks in the door; a major flaw, in Draco’s opinion. Was this train so commonplace that they couldn’t make soundproof compartments? His parents had promised him the best transportation to the countryside. Some promise it had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco ignored the tapping and spread his things carefully around the compartment, making the message clear that no random passerby were to be invited in, and the only person welcome in this space was Draco himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t want to go to the countryside. In fact, his parents had probably only sold him images of grandeur about this train to convince him to get on it in the first place. What with all their lectures on humility and grace, he was sure they had chosen this scrap on purpose. He didn’t think his father would make this choice, of course. It must have been his mother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco threw himself into the seat and tossed his feet up onto the opposite side of the compartment. The seats were hardly sufficient for even his feet. Draco rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest crudely. Poorly made coffee wafted through the smudged glass, along with rolling luggage wheels, clattering families (much too loud and large), and inevitable waiters carrying tea that Draco had no intention of drinking. He even spilled a cup on purpose when it was offered to him, just to see if the waiter would stumble to clean it up and then make him another one, despite the fact that the tea tasted of rot and Draco was sure the server knew it. The waiter didn’t make him another one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The train rumbled on. Draco tried to write a letter to Pansy, his best friend from the boarding school he’d gone to until he was seventeen, but he couldn’t think of anything to write about except for the endless complaints on the subject of his parents. Pansy most certainly would not want to hear about Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy’s most recent failings, as these updates came frequently and without relent. Pansy knew that Draco was being sent away to a deserted Malfoy estate for the summer and that was the extent of her interest in the matter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Often, Draco wondered how he and Pansy had become friends in the first place. They were so completely alike that it was a miracle they didn’t fight about controlling every aspect of the other’s life without murdering each other on a daily basis. Personally, Draco thought it was best that Pansy had flicked off to Croatia after school. School friends were meant to last during school, and letters and the occasional phone call were more than enough contact for Draco to put up with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Draco didn’t write a letter to Pansy, and instead he read a book that he had stolen from his father’s office. The book was about taxes, and was so boring that Draco ended up tossing it out the train window right alongside his father’s official financial records that had been stuck inside it. Served him right for sending Draco away as though he were a petulant child. Besides, it would infuriate his father to find that the records were gone, although he undoubtedly had backups to refer to, and the thought of his father’s ears brightening to a glowering red brought a little cheer to Draco’s smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This brought him to the leading issue of this train. He didn’t truly mind that the seats were slightly sticky, and the staff had broken seams in their uniforms, and that the windows had a splattered residue of weather wear. No. The real issue was that he had not gotten on this train of his own volition, and his parents were sending him to a farm with no high class personnel in a twenty mile radius. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For heavens sake, what was he going to do with himself?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The answer came in the form of a dusty train station. Nothing. Draco was going to do absolutely nothing with himself for three whole months. Draco lifted his luggage daintily in his hand and hauled it across the peeling floorboards of the station himself. There was no one waiting to attend to his needs, which Draco supposed he had expected. Only a slight girl sitting atop a rusty carriage, staring at him as he struggled across the uneven board planks of the station platform. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, Drco thought with a sigh, it was a carriage and not a car. Rusty cars were so untrustworthy, and also so much less romantic than carriages, even if the carriage in question looked as if it’s wheels were about to pitter off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Draco loaded his own luggage and sat in the carriage and waited to be brought to the country house. The girl steering the carriage said nothing, but occasionally looked back at Draco as if she was trying to decide if she should bite Draco’s head off, or if Draco would bite hers off first. Draco had half a mind to with the way she was staring at him. He wasn’t the devil, honestly. The devil’s incarnate, perhaps, but certainly not the devil himself. Draco did not think he would have found himself on this carriage if he was the devil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, he would be riding horrible black stallions through the woods with a ridiculous cloak stretched out through the air behind him. There would be no rattling and lumping on the road, but instead bloody cries and the wake of horror. Indeed, Draco was not the devil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon?” Draco asked. His patience was running thin after nearly an hour of carriage bumping. “How much longer will it be until we arrive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl shot a careless glance over her shoulder. “Not too much longer. I’ll drop you off on the front road.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Drop me off?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Draco stared at her. “Whatever do you mean by that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl shifted back towards the two horses pulling the carriage and shrugged. “I don't work for you. I was only hired to take you to your house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco spluttered. He planted his hands on the carriage seat and leaned forward ruefully. “First of all, it’s not a house. It’s a country manor.” The girl rolled her eyes. “Do you mean to say that there are no staff present?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl huffed. “I don't know.” She had a butterscotch sort of accent that made Draco want to kick her. “I’m just getting paid to take you to the road.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco prided himself on the fact that he was not an idiot, so he promptly shut himself up before he allowed himself to get in an argument with a homely carriage driver and waited to arrive. The drive was actually rather pretty when one was ignoring the fact that they’d been forcefully relocated to the middle of nowhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuttering trees towered over the road and filtered lemon green light down in dapples. Orchids, blossoms, and lovely flowers bloomed over the edges of stones, trunks, and ridges in the earth. The sky was sweet and blue, and pale golden rings marked the placement of the sun. The air was clean, cleaner than anything Draco had tasted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy Manor was in Wiltshire, which was by no means a city, but Draco spent most of his time in London, seeing as that’s where all the happenings of England seemed to be. He even had a flat that he stayed in throughout the week before coming home to the Manor for the weekends. Of course, his parents paid for the flat, but Draco still liked to think of it as his own. He had decorated it himself at the least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sat back in the slightly molded carriage seat and allowed the countryside to lull him into a trepid peace that Draco was sure would not last. If the entry road of the Manor was any indicator, it would be no small walk getting to the country manor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was correct in this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the carriage had dropped him off, leaving him in a cloud of reddish dust, Draco stood to stare blankly at the gates. The gates themselves were nice, not rusty, and gilded with true gold. The pathway, however, was muddy and so long that Draco could not even see the house from where he was standing. If Draco had any loose change or notes on him, he would’ve paid the carriage girl extra to drive him right up to the front doors of the country estate. As it was, Draco never carried notes, and the girl nearly took off with Draco still half inside of it; a clear indicator that she’d had quite enough of his company. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of Draco had been expecting a welcoming party when he arrived, and then he would’ve been taken up a neatly paved path by Malfoy staff and someone would’ve carried his trunk for him. There was no welcoming party in sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco considered throwing a tantrum, but there was no one in sight to see it, and there didn’t seem to be much use in putting in the effort of properly kicking up a fuss without any witnesses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Draco picked up his trunk by one handle and slowly lugged it through the gates and down the path. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heat baked down on him, the June air wavering around him tauntingly. Draco thought cruelly to his pinched feet that he deserved better than this. Someone should’ve at least warned him to wear walking shoes, and not his woefully posh Oxford’s. They wouldn’t be much to look at by the end of this journey; Draco would have to buy a new pair, which was a shame. Draco rather liked this particular set. He had bought them with Pansy on a whim. They’d been looking for a pair of Oxford’s for Pansy just after graduation, but Pansy hadn’t found a single pair she’d liked. They’d gone to nearly every outlet in England before Draco decided to get a pair for himself. Pansy ended up buying Doc Martens. Draco thought the purchase was horridly common, but he hadn’t seen Pansy without them since.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the house did finally come into view, Draco couldn’t help but think it was worth the wait (which was something Draco </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought). Nothing was ever worth a wait. If Draco wanted it, then he should have it. In as little time as possible, preferably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the villa, and that was the name it warranted, was wonderful and grand with looming balconies and doors that horses could fit through. It framed a spectacular sight against the clouds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello? Sir?” a voice called. Draco looked to both sides, but saw no one. “Sir!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco whirled to see a young man jogging up to him in hardy, dust covered clothes. The boy came to stop in front of him and took the trunk out of Draco’s hand without requesting it. Draco tried not to be affronted by the boy’s panting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must be Mr. Malfoy. The younger one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sniffed in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well your father is... It’s obvious you’re not him, although I thought with the hair for a second... Sorry I’m being improper.” The boy did not look sorry at all. In fact, he looked very sweaty and his dark hair was atrociously messy. He also had the same sort of honeyed accent that the carriage girl did, and Draco wanted to scream about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you work here?” Draco asked, lifting his chin slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m the stable hand.” The boy shrugged, and then smiled. “My name’s Harry Potter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nodded, but said nothing in reply, and continued stalking up the drive towards the front doors to the villa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s not much staff here,” Harry continued. “No one comes out here. Ever. Which I suppose is nice.” Harry chanced a glance at Draco, but he didn’t let his face twitch. If Harry was implying that he held raging parties here when the Malfoys were away (and they always were away), then Draco had no business knowing it. “Keeps the cleaning simple.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How lovely.” Draco wasn’t sure himself if he was being sarcastic or not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But,” Harry said. “It will be nice to have somebody living here. Usually it’s just me, Cook Roy, and the two maids. Their names are Kit and Daisy, but I can never tell which is which. Not much gossip to tell out here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt I’ll have anything to contribute to your gossip circles,” Draco said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not. Although I’ve heard the Malfoys are notorious for getting themselves into irreversible trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stared at him, realizing belatedly that he’d stopped walking right in the middle of the path. “You do realize you’re speaking to one of the aforementioned Malfoys, yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry grinned. “Kit and Daisy will take care of you from here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry passed over Draco’s trunk to one of the maids and waved to Draco before walking off. Draco stared after his loping walk until he disappeared behind a cluster of trees and turned to find two middle aged women standing at the front doors of the villa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” Draco said. “I’m Draco Malfoy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the women blinked at him before her lips crinkled up into a slight smile. “We know who you are, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nodded, keeping his face cool and stoic. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other woman, the one with the pale blue apron, looked Draco up and down before speaking. “We’ll take you on a tour of the house, sir. Your father wrote that you’ve never stayed at this estate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco narrowed his eyes. These people were in contact with his father? Of course they were, he thought, they worked for him. But even so, the notion that they were reporting back to him on Draco’s behavior and life made him uneasy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My father would be correct in that,” Draco said sharply. “I would appreciate a tour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. My name’s Daisy,” the one with the blue apron says. “This is my sister Kit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A pleasure,” Draco sniffed. “The tour please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit nodded to the ground and beckoned for Draco to follow, waiting to see his approval before taking off for the front steps. The air had cooled since Draco arrived, a sign that his travels had taken more of the day than he’d thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit and Daisy said nothing to each other as they led Draco up the stairs, but he could tell that they were simply waiting for a moment to speak to each other because their hands kept swatting back and forth between them, intermittent squeezes and pinches added into the flapping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you have something to say, you may say it,” Draco said, finally sickening of watching them communicating in front of his very eyes without saying anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing to say, sir,” Daisy said without hesitation. She hardly even glanced in his direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t know how to respond to that. So he glared and hummed and followed them through grand doors into the entryway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The villa was as lovely on the inside as it was on the outside. Greenery hung luxuriously out of corners and window wells, and golden intricacies lined the decor. The floor glistened with light wooded floors and glass ceilings glittered over minimal decor lined with gold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit and Daisy stopped in the middle of the sparkling corridor and turned towards Draco. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where would you like your luggage, sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stared. Was the bedroom not a suitable place for his trunk? It wasn’t like he had brought mounds of trunks and parcels that needed to be placed in different locations around the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The bedroom will be just fine,” he said, hesitant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. We’ll take you there first then,” Daisy said. She flounced her apron over her skirt and took Kit’s hand. “I must apologize for my reaction to your question earlier, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no need to call me sir in every sentence,” Draco interrupted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My apologies,” Daisy stuttered. “When you asked what we were saying- or rather, doing with our hands- I spoke irrationally to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco rolled his eyes. “If there was nothing to say, then there was nothing to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy eyebrows slanted down in an obvious glare. Draco had never been glared at by staff before, and he kept quiet. “Kit is partially deaf. We communicate with our hands. I snapped because I was trying to figure out what she was saying. I apologize for treating you like a peer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco could not believe that his father had hired someone who was partially deaf. It made no real difference to Draco, as he didn’t think he’d be spending much time with either Kit or Daisy during his time here, but it seemed utterly unlikely that his father would have hired a disabled person unless he didn’t know that she was disabled. It wouldn’t be too hard to bypass his father, Draco supposed. They were out working at a far off countryside estate. Draco’s mother much prefered the seaside to the country, and as a result, Draco had never been here himself, while he had been to almost every Malfoy property on the continent. So really, it wasn’t too unbelievable that Kit was able to work here, but Draco still guessed that Daisy must have helped her get hired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for your explanation,” Draco said politely. He had the grace in his heart to be generous towards staff, so he did not snap, and he did not hit either woman, as his father would likely have done. He hoped his mother had taught him better than that. “I would like to be shown the bedroom now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither Kit nor Daisy said anything after that, either to Draco or to each other. Draco was glad for it. He could barely admit it to himself, but the whole day had been slightly overwhelming. He had been practically kicked out of his home by his own parents, sent on a middle class train without a companion, endured a several hour carriage ride, then left to walk down an extensive muddy path. Needless to say, it was not a normal day in Draco’s world. He wanted nothing more in this moment than to have a readily made bed ready for him to lie down in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite his irritation and exhaustion, it was impossible not to marvel at the grandeur of the villa. Even the hallways and stairs from one lovely floor to another were long and obnoxiously made, despite their elegance. As the sky darkened with clouds and arriving evening, the light filtering in through the towering windows faded, and the urge to simply lie down where Draco walked and rest became harder to resist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Daisy stopped in front of an ornate white door. Draco sighed without meaning to, and both Daisy and Kit glanced at him with wide eyes. Draco didn’t bother saying anything about it. Let the people wonder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here are your rooms,” Kit said. Her voice was so quiet, Draco could hardly make it out, but that might’ve been his own fatigue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the top floor,” Daisy added on, louder. “If you don't like it, we can prepare another suite if you like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” Draco said. He nearly yawned. Yawned! His father would riot if he could see him now. Loose with his words and his uptight posture slopping over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy opened the door for him and gestured him in, but didn’t lead the way or follow behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get some sleep, sir,” Daisy said. Her voice was kinder now than it had been earlier. “The rooms aren’t too difficult to navigate in the suite, even for you I think.” Draco ignored the slight. He had no energy to find a smarting remark in him. “Harry will likely show you around tomorrow. He’s the-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The stable hand, yes,” Draco responded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Daisy confirmed. “Kit and I have errands tomorrow. He’ll show you around the place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s just fine. Thank you.” And with that, Draco shut the door behind him and sat down on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nice thing about being an only child was that Draco had his parent’s attention no matter what he did or where he was. But the place they never followed was Draco’s bedroom. His mother had gone in there to tell him stories and brush his hair when he was younger, but once he had turned ten, the space belonged to him and the staff that tidied it while he was out. There, expectations and rules did not exist. Dance parties, lying on the floor, wearing mismatched clothes, and writing letters to throw into the stream below his window were welcome, among countless other improper things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although Draco’s parents were not here, at this estate, this bedroom still held that freedom. A little taste of not having to be the perfect Malfoy heir, forever watched. Draco didn’t mind being the perfect Malfoy heir. After all, people attended on all his needs, he had a well met reputation, he was doted on without restraint, and he was considered a fine young man. Those things were perfectly nice, and held no reason for complaint. But a person cannot be perfect at all hours of the day, even if the other hours are only spent sleeping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco ruffled through his trunk for his pajamas and then found his way to the nearest surface (an armchair) and fell asleep. He would worry about expectations, countryside manors, and finding the bed tomorrow. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Updates will be every Saturday :)</p><p>(I just barely made it on time for this one phew. This is a lesson for me to stop procrastinating things)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There was no phone in the house, Draco discovered the next morning. He had woken several times in the night, the air cool on the edges of summer, preparing for evenings of humid mosquito bites and sticking hair. Each time he’d woken, he’d expected to see the dark walls of Malfoy Manor surrounding him, the rustling of his parents downstairs, the clicking of the fan over his head. But the night here was quiet of humans. There were cicadas buzzing in the fields, grasses swaying, what might’ve been the rippling of a pond, the huffs of animals out in stables that couldn’t have been far enough away from the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco found it unsettling, distrustful. It wasn’t that they were bad sounds, because they had their own comfort to them, it was only that they were unfamiliar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he had gone looking for a phone. He wasn’t sure who he wanted to call. His mother, or Pansy, maybe. All he knew was that he needed the freedom to have some gateway out of this place. But there was no gateway to the outside world because there was no phone. Any connection outside of the country estate would have to be made with travel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why is there no phone here?” Draco asked Daisy as she was heading out the door for her errands the next morning, Kit in tow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thought for a moment. “I suppose because there’s no one here to use it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is now,” Draco said, as if it was obvious. Well, it was obvious, wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy shrugged. “The upkeep and fees aren’t usually worth it. If you’d like, I can contact your father about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Draco said quickly. He waved Daisy out the door. “There’s no need to speak to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, Draco resolved, there would be no telephone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Life at the country estate was dull. Draco thought it needed a name. Malfoy Manor had its own name. The French estate was called Mer de la Mère for Draco’s mother. It seemed unreasonable that this one not have a name if Draco would be staying in it for the next three months. Draco could name it after himself, but that seemed too pretentious even for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco thought hard about it. There wasn’t much else to do except think of it without pause. He remembered distantly that the stable boy Harry was meant to give him a tour of the estate, but Harry never came, and Draco didn’t seek him out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat on the front porch instead, which was grand and sloping, and looked out at the expanse of nature that would be his residence for the summer. Draco sighed resentfully. What he wouldn’t do to be back in his flat in London… Privilege, his arse. His parents were losing their touch if they thought Draco needed to be humbled. He didn’t even live with them anymore! Most of the time. What say did they have in his life?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could get a job. Then they’d have even less of a say. But even with a job, Draco would likely fall back on the family wealth. He was too used to a life of comfort. Perhaps that’s what his mother had meant when she said that Draco needed “some time away from easy luxuries.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, Draco thought, neither of his parents were taking time away from their luxuries, and they probably never would. He couldn’t understand why he was being subjected to this treatment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A week passed before Draco did anything outside of sitting on the front porch, staring out wistfully over the grounds as if he might be able to see London from where he sat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” a voice interrupted Draco’s thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco squinted up at the messy haired silhouette in the sun. “Potter, yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can call me Harry,” he offered with a bright smile. Harry held out his hand and Draco sniffed. So here he was at last. Draco was unimpressed. “Care to go for a walk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stood on his own, brushing Harry’s hand out of the way. “No, thank you. I have some matters to take care of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco began to walk away, but Harry’s voice caught him in the doorway. “What matters? Surely I can assist you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco turned. “I don't think you can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankly, Draco had no interest in spending time with Harry Potter the stable hand. For one, he was the stable hand. What interest was there in that? Draco had never learned to ride horses. His family, and him, were more carriage people. Or fancy car people, on the rare occasion. Horses were meant for showing and racing, not riding. Many of the people Draco’s father was friends with liked to ride horses. They called it an “aristocratic pleasure.” Draco’s father always laughed condescendingly when people said that, and Draco got behind this mockery. There’s nothing very attractive about horses except for the money they bring in for the Malfoys when they win races. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he’s rambling. Draco is a rich man’s son, and Harry is a nobody. Not to say that nobodies aren’t important, but Draco would rather not spend time with one. They probably don't have anything in common anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry came closer, his smile undeterred. A whiff of something earthy and sweet washed over Draco as Harry rocked his weight from his heels to his toes (an unseemly habit). Draco sighed and looked over Harry’s shoulder to the open chirping air of the estate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco looked back at Harry. There really was nothing else to do here, so a short conversation couldn’t hurt. “Does this estate have a name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” The smile finally dropped a little in surprise. Draco’s eyes zeroed in on it smugly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does the estate have a name?” Draco repeated. “Something to distinguish it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Harry smirked. “You have lots of estates to distinguish?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stared. “Yes, actually. Were you not aware?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shook his head at the ground. Draco could tell the smile had returned. No one should smile that much, it wasn’t healthy. Draco hoped it wasn’t contagious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could name it after yourself,” Harry offered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco snorted and shook his head. “I will not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s hand clasped his chest. Perhaps his reaction was dramatic, but drama was necessary when it came to Draco. “How rude for you to even suggest. That would be extremely inappropriate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry smiled and gestured for Draco to follow him off the porch. Without knowing exactly why, Draco followed, his thoughts of plebian commonfolk mostly forgotten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How so?” Harry asked. “You seem the type.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The type to what?” Draco was supremely offended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To name a property after yourself,” Harry laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was not sure if Harry was teasing or had never been in the presence of a boss before. Usually, an employee is respectful to the people they work for. Although, Harry technically worked for Lucius Malfoy, not Draco. Even so, there is everything to be gained by good manners in a world of policy and publicity. Perhaps this was Harry’s first job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long have you been working here?” Draco asked. It might have come out a little accusatory based on the way Harry began looking at him, but Draco did not care. Questions demanded answers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About five years,” Harry said. Thankfully for Draco’s peace of mind, Harry neither shrugged nor smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how old are you?” Draco asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twenty four, I reckon,” Harry said. The smile was back. Draco was sure he hated it, but the sun was coming down in a nice way in this little path that Harry had led him on, and Draco was finding it hard to muster up the annoyance necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Small trees dappled the path, but didn’t reach over it. Birds chirped indistinctly and the sounds of faint waves lapping up the shore of a lake whistled through the trees distantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You reckon?” Draco asked. “Don't you know when your own birthday is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do so,” Harry insisted indignantly. “July 31!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Congratulations,” said Draco. “You haven’t answered my question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m almost 24,” Harry said. His hands reached out absently to pluck a strand of high rising grass from the side of the path. Draco had the strong urge to tell Harry that he was robbing Draco on his own property, but somehow he restrained himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> twenty four,” Draco said haughtily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really!” Harry said, and he said it much too excitedly for Draco’s taste. “I don't think I’ve ever met anyone my age before!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stopped in the middle of the path. Harry walked several steps farther before realizing that Draco was behind him, and swiveled according. “You must be joking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Harry said seriously. He waved impatiently at Draco until they’d started walking again. “My mum and dad live in the town over, and only old retired people live there and the occasional middle aged rich family. I was homeschooled my whole life, and then ended up getting a job here thanks to Daisy. She’s a friend of my mum’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Interesting,” Draco said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been working here since,” Harry said, somewhat proudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the practices of his upbringing, Draco found himself asking, “Why are you still working here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why wouldn’t I be working here?” Harry looked hesitantly to Draco and then slowly pushed his hands into his pockets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re twenty four and you’re wasting your time working on someone else’s property? Why aren’t you at uni and going after some ridiculous dream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re snappy,” Harry said, looking straight forward on the path. Draco chose to ignore the beauty of the property in favor of staring Harry down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and slightly intrusive. Why?” Draco fired back. Draco was loathe to admit it, but he was sort of enjoying this. The push and pull of accusation and demand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco pinched himself under the edge of his sleeve. What in the heavens was he doing? He shouldn’t be enjoying his time with an employee, and especially not walking down a garden path with him for pleasure. It was too late now though, Draco supposed. At this point it would just be rude to abandon Harry here. Potter, he corrected himself. It would be rude to abandon </span>
  <em>
    <span>Potter </span>
  </em>
  <span>here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco also wasn’t sure if he remembered his way back to the villa. It was more polite to simply stick out the rest of this conversation and then retreat back into his bedroom for the rest of the day. Or the rest of the summer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never wanted to, really,” Harry responded. “I like being close enough to my parents to go home for holidays, and I love working here. It’s beautiful here, in case you haven’t noticed. Like living in a dream.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well, it’s not your dream.” Draco’s gait tightened. His thoughts shifted back to their usual track of family duty, responsibility, his fragile identity, the perception of his place in the world. He shouldn’t be here. Harry Potter was a stable hand. A stable hand who should be working right now, not walking with Draco. And Draco? Well he shouldn’t be doing this. He didn’t know in this moment what he was supposed to be doing, but it wasn’t this pointless stroll across the countryside with a toned, dark-haired boy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, it’s yours.” Harry kept looking ahead down the path. The easy banter had vanished, and when Harry turned right into a loop around back to the house instead of the path that extended on to the lake, it was of no surprise to Draco. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry said nothing else, and his smile dropped to be trampled under Draco’s prissy laced up shoes. The looping path seemed slightly less beautiful than the one they had taken in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry deserted Draco’s side quickly when they arrived back at the steps of the villa, taking off for the distant sounds of horses. Well, Draco wouldn’t let himself be bothered by the whole event. He straightened his posture and picked his way up the front steps, wondering idly if this estate was where all the Malfoy horses were bred and trained. It was likely. Although Draco had never come to this estate with his family, that didn’t mean that their main source of income wasn’t rooted here. Based on the land and it’s exclusive location, the prospect of this being the birthplace of the Malfoy race horses was probable. He might write his father about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The distinct image of Lucius Malfoy berating Draco about his behavior loomed up in Draco’s mind, and Draco rid his mind of the thought quickly. He would not be writing any letters to his father any time soon. Perhaps his mother would know something about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco should probably write to Pansy as well. In her last letter from over a month ago, she’d gone on for several pages about her upcoming fashion shows and marketing ideas. Draco had promised to give her feedback on her ideas and strategies before the showcases, but it seemed a little too late at this point. At any rate, he could congratulate her. Draco had skimmed the fashion headlines a couple weeks ago, and she’d made a big impact. Pansy would probably write back with a furious reprimand about Draco’s timeliness, but an expensive bouquet of flowers and an extra letter full of compliments would fix the rift up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco spent the rest of his afternoon stenciling out letters for his mother and Pansy. When he was finished, he left the sealed letters on a table by the door with a note for Daisy and Kit to deliver them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco spent the rest of the day lounging around in his room and wishing he’d brought lighter clothes. Even with his windows shut and the uptight seams of his clothes unlaced, the sun coming through the gauzy curtains was turning the room into an infernal oven. Draco would need to buy some new clothes more suited to this climate. He might ask Harry to take him to that town over he spoke of to get some new things. The thought left as quick as it came. Of course, he wouldn’t request Harry to take him to a town to shop. That was… unthinkable for reasons that Draco didn’t dare to delve into. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d just speak to Daisy, that was all. She could take some measurements for him and order the lighter clothes or buy them herself. Draco could give her some money to get them, and he wouldn’t have to think about it any longer. Yes, that’s what he would do. So much less overthinking to do that way. He’d let her know when she and Kit returned from their errands today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t wait long for Kit and Daisy to return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pittering knock at the door. The sun was setting into the lake in streaks of purpled blue, and Draco called for the knocker to enter. Kit’s face eased through the crack in the door, and she walked in on soft feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Malfoy,” she said. “Daisy and I picked up a letter for you today while you were out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco raised his eyebrows. “Who is it from? I have yet to contact anyone as far as I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your father.” Kit lowered her eyes to the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sighed. “Well, bring it here then. I’m sure he’s got something to say about the financial records I threw out the train window. He’s finally realized they’re missing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit stared at him in what Draco could only presume to be shock. Her eyes were almost comically wide and color heightened on her cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Draco said. “Never thrown your father’s official records out a window before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waved her over with his hand. Draco had been raised to treat employees as beneath him, but he almost couldn’t bear to do it with Kit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike Kit, Daisy had an attitude behind her patient ‘sirs.’ The stature Kit cut out in the purple light made Draco want to bring her mouth closer to his ear so he could hear her words clearer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment Draco thought of her lips, he shuddered away from the thought. Flashing memories of a younger Draco hiding under his bed when the handsome new jockeys came strolling in to Malfoy Manor to meet his father, the times at boarding school when Draco had looked after the other boys his own age, the way he used to stare when一 No. Draco stopped himself. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> be thinking about Kit’s lips. She was pretty enough, and any thoughts about the same sex were quite unwelcomed. It was only Draco’s adolescence that had corrupted him with such fantasies. Such thoughts had no staying power. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit brought the letter from his father closer, and Draco took it from her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said. He even smiled at her a little. Her face was friendly and open, and Draco ought to like it. He did. It was nice enough. The kind of face Draco would want as a friend. He knocked the thought out of his head. Draco wasn’t here to make friends with the staff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fresh struggle. When to want women, when to want friends, when to wish it all away. Ah, but they were all employees. It would be in his best interest to stay away from the whole lot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t fall so delicate around Daisy. She had spit in her to fire back. Draco had already seen that within the week he’d been there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Draco had shouted at Kit his second day at the villa because he thought she couldn’t understand him, Daisy had stepped in firmly to tell him that Kit was only partially deaf, and could read lips perfectly fine. When Daisy walked too roughly through the gardens, Kit shooed her out and picked through them herself. They illustrated a kind of companionship that Draco had never known before, and watching them together eased away his thoughts of employees and bosses and what was or was not proper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, the lines of propriety was becoming increasingly blurrier in the passing days. Every moment Draco spoke to Kit or Daisy, both who turned out to be kind and reasonable and whom Draco wanted to befriend despite their position, he had to pull himself back. Realize where he was, what his father would say. It was the same with Harry Potter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The days passed, and every time Draco saw him walking by, he’d smile gloriously at Draco and Draco would have to sit down in the shade to recollect his bearings. He never smiled back, but the way Harry moved with ease made him want to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was horribly confusing. Especially with the words of his father’s letter ringing constantly in his head like a metronomic knocking on the inside of his skull.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Draco, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope I find you in good health, although you did not leave our homestead long ago. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have several matters to discuss with you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The first of those matters is my missing financial records and the tracking book they were stored in. Seeing as your mother never bothers entering my office, and you have the uncanny knack of wandering in there uninvited, I must assume you are the one behind the disappearance of these records. Respond immediately on this matter. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My other issue is the state you left your quarters at Malfoy Manor. Your mother and I respect your wish to not be waited on or checked on in your rooms, but the cleaning was necessary. As you are gone, your mother assumed it would be all right to give the room a deep clean and leave your personal belongings untouched. Some of the items we found amongst your possessions are unacceptable for a person of our stature. We will discuss this further once I hear from you again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The third point I must bring up is your mother. She’s missing you obsessively already, so I suggest you write to her. Don't mention that I told you to do so. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I expect a timely response. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Warm regards, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucius Malfoy</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco hadn’t responded yet. He had no interest in discussing the financial records he’d taken. He’d have to come up with a story for where those went, or an alibi of some sorts so his father would leave him alone about it. On the subject of whatever items were found in Draco’s room, he couldn’t say. He’s been living almost exclusively in London these days, only sleeping in that old room on weekends so as to visit with his parents. Whatever things his teenage self stashed in there are a mystery to the present day Draco Malfoy. As for the third, Draco already sent a letter to his mother before he received the one from his father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It should’ve arrived at the Manor by now, but Draco couldn’t say he was particularly happy about how his father would undoubtedly presume the letter was his own idea, although Draco had written it before he’d read the one from his father. It was a petty thing to linger over, but Draco thought of it continuously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father as a whole, along with his letter, was something Draco thought about often as he sat on the front porch and stared out over trees and lake and meadows. It was not necessarily a pleasant train of thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Light only began to shimmer through the dullness of his days when Draco discovered the little cove of trees on the ridge of the lake. It took days to find it, but Draco had nowhere else to be, and he’d quickly gotten bored of wandering around the halls of the villa. No matter how pretty the house was, it stayed the same every day. Draco thought he might go insane at the routine of walking and walking and then going back to his bedroom to sleep for the rest of the day. So finally, on his second week, he’d gone outside. Farther than the porch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked along the same path Harry had first taken him on, and instead of looping back around, he kept walking. He didn’t bother keeping track of the time, but stopped when he came across the clearing. How could he not? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was everything beautiful and inexplicable about nature. Willow branches swung over the space, which was carpeted with soft clumps of grass speckled by dottings of flowers scattered across the ground. Birds chippered out of sight and the occasional breeze shimmered through the air, lifting strands of Draco’s hair off his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped, and then lay down in the clearing, and went to sleep there. He woke around sunset and then walked back to the villa. And so began his new routine, unperturbed by anything but his own thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, some of those thoughts happened to include his father’s letter. Draco couldn’t stop thinking of it. Many days he would go to the clearing and instead of sleeping, he would lay on his back and stare up at the trees, hoping that they might be able to write a letter back to his father for him. He knew he’d have to do it soon. If he didn’t, Draco had no doubt that his father would come marching up to the villa himself to question Draco. That was something Draco most decidedly did not want. However unwilling he’d been to come here, he’d found a sort of reprieve without his parents and the city looming over him at all times. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Daisy or Kit checked in on him, Draco made sure to make a fuss about wishing he was back in his London apartment, but truly Draco was finding a startling amount of happiness trickling into his veins at the quiet sounds of the country. The other day, he’d even had the courage to walk to the doors of the stable and look in on the horses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was marvelous really. Draco didn’t think he was being humbled like his parents intended, but his heart had grown quieter in some ways. Seeing as he spoke to nearly no one, he rarely felt the need to be snotty and horrible in his words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was it, truly. The lack of words, the lack of people, the lack of needing to be something to others. That was the best part of it, Draco thought. The feeling was appalling. Draco had always liked being rich and smart. They were his best assets. But he could admit to himself that it was nice being by himself day after day, watching the lake and the sky and the trees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His days melted onwards in this peaceful drag for another week before Harry Potter decided to banter into Draco’s cove in the trees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Lo there,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s head jerked up from where he’d been resting on the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Potter,” Draco said, sitting up sharply. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shrugged and shifted his weight on his feet. “Looking for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco folded his arms across his chest. His cove didn’t seem so peaceful and quiet with Harry Potter standing in it. Draco’s stomach twisted into a knot and he shifted uncomfortably where he sat on the ground. Harry looked down at him and held out his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Draco asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A letter arrived for you,” Harry said. He waved his hand around, and Draco realized what was in it. A thick creamy envelope. Draco didn’t need to read the return address on the back of it to know who it was from. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco held his hand out for the letter. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A thank you?” Harry smirked. He walked over to Draco and flopped over next to him. “Incredible. Coming from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco took the envelope out of his hands carefully. “What do you mean by that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shrugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me guess,” Draco snorted. “I don't seem the type to thank people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A crooked smile spread across Harry’s face. “Something like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco scooted away from Harry. It was more for show than because Draco actually didn’t want to be near Harry, but the action had clear intention. “How rude of you,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded. “You’re right. Can’t help it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” Draco could hear the crisp poshness of his accent slipping into his words. That happened sometimes, when Draco was especially out of his element. His voice got too clean, too high, and his words too edged on the ends. If Harry noticed, he didn’t point it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Harry said. “Different standards though, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Different standards than what?” Draco snapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Different standards than whatever fancy boarding school you went to, I reckon,” Harry said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stared at him. Harry looked up at him and grinned, and Draco realized he had a half smile upon his face. He dropped his head immediately and made sure the smile was gone before lifting his head again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always say just what you’re thinking, don't you?” Draco said. He tried not to smile again, he really tried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry laughed, full out then. “I try not to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you really?” Draco wasn’t trying to drop his smile now. It was too hard trying to keep it off his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shook his head, still laughing. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco snorted. Oh heavens. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Snorted</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Draco’s smile and obscene sounds of laughter vanished. His stomach twisted hard, and the letter in his hand burned back to the front of his attention again. Draco let his eyes roam carefully down to the envelope in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To Draco Lucius Malfoy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it said on the front. The return address, unsurprisingly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Malfoy Estates</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Draco didn’t want to open it, not now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry had stopped laughing. “Is everything alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nodded, his eyes stuck on the letter in his hands. “Of course,” he said. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Harry said. He shrugged and stood, dusting dirt and bits of grass of his pants. “I’ll leave you to it then, if that’s alright. The horses will be needing tending.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Draco said. He didn’t look up. His eyes were still glued to the envelope in his hand. It could be from his mother, but Draco doubted it. There was no chance that Draco’s father would turn a blind eye to how Draco had blatantly ignored the letter questioning Draco about the whereabouts of the financial records. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco distantly heard Harry shuffle out of the cove and set off on the path back to the house. Now was as good a time as any to read the letter, he supposed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco cracked the seal with his thumb and slowly tugged the letter out. Two pieces of folded paper fell out between his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first was from his mother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dearest Draco, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope you are doing well, my love. You are missed at the Manor, of course, but I think the decision for you to go to the country estate was for the best. You agree, I’m sure?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was lovely to hear from you. Don't forget to let Pansy know that I send my congratulations to her for her success at her fashion show. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Let me know how you’ve been settling into the country estate. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Love, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mum</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was strange, how Draco could hear her voice behind the words she’d written. It was comforting in the way that all mothers’ voices are, but unnerving. Draco set the letter down quickly. As per usual, his mother had nothing of real interest to say. All she wanted was to look after Draco’s general well being and send her congratulations to Pansy. Narcissa loved Pansy. Pansy was such a success, self made by twenty, beloved by clients and fans and critics alike. As Draco had had no success outside of the name that had already been made for him by the Malfoy bloodline, Narcissa didn’t feel the need to shower Draco in compliments at any time. After all, compared to the successful Pansy Parkinson, what had Draco done?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps this was the reason Draco never wanted to get in contact with Pansy these days. It’s hard to be shown up by your best friend in your mother’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second paper that came out of the envelope was from Draco’s father. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Draco. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I await your response to my previous letter. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I spoke to a staff member at the estate yesterday, Daisy Mulberry, so I’m aware you received it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Warm regards, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucius Malfoy</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco pulled his knees into his chest and dropped his head down on them. His father did not have to say much to send Draco into a rotating spindle of anxiety. He really needed to figure out how to answer his father’s letter. If he couldn’t, Lucius Malfoy would come marching down to the countryside, and that would be much, much worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco tucked both letters back into the envelope and then carefully flattened them into his pocket. The sun had begun to set, and thus, it was time for Draco to head back to the estate for dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he walked back, he thought of what he would say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the financial records, he could tell his father that he hadn’t known what they were. His father already thought him to be stupid, didn’t he? Draco hummed to himself. Not quite that stupid. He’ll tell him that he accidentally left the book on the train. Yes, that would be perfect. He’d say that he’d been going over the records to educate himself further on the Malfoy Estates, and in the rush to gather his belongings, he’d accidentally left the book in the compartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That would do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And for the incriminating items in Draco’s room that Lucius had asked after? Draco couldn’t think of what they might be. It could be anything from pictures of half naked men from a horrible phase Draco went through the summer after his fourth year, or it could be scone crumbs that had gone unswept under his desk. No matter what Draco said, he’d back himself into a corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed as the villa came back into view through the trees. He’d have to flat out ask his father what he’d found. Whatever it was, hopefully Draco could come up with a story about it to take the heat off his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But tonight, it was too much to think of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The delightful aromas of lemon tea with spices, fresh garden salad, and possibly a shepard’s pie were steaming out through the windows, and the scent was practically irresistible. Draco leaned into the kitchen and smiled to Cook Roy before going into the dining hall to eat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dining hall was large. Empty. Silent. A horrible place to eat in, really. But Draco ate in there anyways with manners fit for a ballroom. If Draco closed his eyes, he didn’t have to reach far to imagine his father in the chair beside him, pinching the backs of his hands to correct him of the habits of reaching for a fork out of the proper order. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco kept his eyes open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The meal passed, and Draco went up to his room. Breezes came in through the wavered windows, blowing back gauzy curtains across wooden floors laden with thick rugs. Draco sat in a chair in the suite and daydreamed. He could do with a glass of wine. It occurred to him to call for one, but he couldn’t gather the motivation to call someone up to fetch one for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time passed in strange ways at the country estate. The days blended together in a jumble of hot, bearing sun and the taste of green things on Draco’s tongue. Nothing captured his complete attention, and he spent the days wandering about and lying in his cove. It was a pleasurable enough existence, if not a dull one. Draco wouldn’t mind a little distraction. Preferably not a Lucius Malfoy shaped distraction, though. Draco sighed and pushed further back into the cushions of the chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when he’d finished daydreaming about wine and London, Draco crawled into bed and went to asleep. His distraction would come soon enough.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So sorry, this was mostly world building and set up. Hope you enjoyed though :)</p><p>Kudos and comments are much appreciated xo</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry I'm posting this a day late! Hope you enjoy!</p><p>This is absolutely a self indulgent fic, and I am loving it (in case you were wondering).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The birds were chirping too loudly today. Draco glared at them from his seat on the porch. He swung back and forth in the little rocking chair and leaned forward with every push closer to the edge of the porch to try and snatch a glimpse at the birds glimmering between the tree branches. He hadn’t seen a single one yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d seen a lot of Harry Potters today, though. One Harry Potter. Many times. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to force his brain to consider what he should write back to his father, but with the day and the Harry Potter displayed in front of him, it was hard to focus on such a thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco pushed back in the chair and sighed as Harry came trotting around the side of the house again. Harry grinned brilliantly and waved, passing out of sight on the other side of the house again. Draco nodded to him for the sake of being polite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several minutes passed and Draco continued to rock. Harry came around the house again, grinning and waving at Draco like they were best friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sighed, shook his head, and beckoned to Harry. Harry stopped in front of the house and pointed to himself in question. Draco waved his hand more vigorously in his own direction to indicate to Harry to come up on the porch. He considered calling out to Harry, but that seemed too desperate. Harry was already coming towards Draco, so he shook his head and tilted his chin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry bounded up the steps to the front porch and came to stand in front of Draco. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” he said, still smiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco took deliberate time to rock in his chair before responding. “Hello.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wasn’t sure why he’d been so set on trying to find birds in the trees earlier. What he should have been focusing on was spotting Harry between the wooden rail encompassing half of the porch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew, he wasn’t supposed to think about it. It. This. Boys. Whatever. Draco couldn’t drag his eyes away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft shimmer of sweat hovered over the swells of Harry’s body. His face was tinted golden hues of brown under the sun and shade, and black hair swarmed everywhere, invading Harry’s cheeks and the air around him. His eyes. They were green. Draco had never seen anything quite like them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure why all of this was occuring to him now. He’d seen Harry around the estate plenty of times by now, and had had a couple of conversations where Harry’d been closer to Draco than he is now. Maybe it was the heat making Draco delusional. Whatever it was, he almost gasped in delight when Harry dusted his hands over his pants and took the seat next to Draco. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How has your day been?” Harry asked. He sat and began rocking and looked happily out at the sun beating down on the view from the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stared. His day. Had anyone asked about his day before? In his life? Ever? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was regretting his decision to invite Harry on the porch. This was a major mistake, and Draco was going to make a fool of himself in front of Harry. This Harry who suddenly looked sweaty and sexy, and who Draco wanted to hold hands with. Heavens, everything about it was weird. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco hadn’t wanted to hold hands with anyone since his first crush in his second year of boarding school. After that whole… situation, Draco had only thought about sex. Body only, no feelings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the only heir to the Malfoy wealth and family name, falling in love with another man was a one way ticket to a broken heart. No feelings meant no broken heart, and Draco could live in his own shame with a wife by his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry watched him, then laughed. Draco lifted his chin up into the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was your day?” Harry repeated. Heat flushed up Draco’s neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” he said stiffly. “Yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonderful,” Harry sighed, settling deeper into his rocking chair. “Sun’s out. Horses are doing well. I’m going home this weekend. Couldn’t be happier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sat up. “You’re going home this weekend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded and waved a hand at a fly buzzing near him. “It’s my cousin’s birthday. My aunt and uncle hate my family, but my cousin’s alright, so he’s coming for a day or two to celebrate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do your aunt and uncle hate your family?” Draco asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Harry sighed. “Well, it’s kind of a long story. Short story is my uncles are gay. I mean, they’re not my uncles by blood, but they’re my dad’s best friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco swallowed. Looked down at his feet. “So your aunt and uncle…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry kept talking, “My mum’s sister and her husband, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco swallowed again, trying to rid his throat of the heavy lump lodged in it. “They hate your whole family because of your uncles?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well my uncles are practically primary family. Both my mum and my dad were close with them in school, and they’re around all the time. My aunt and her husband are elitist bigots, and made a huge fuss about my uncles. My parents stood up for them of course, and I haven’t really seen the Dursleys since.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Dursleys?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My aunt and uncle,” Harry clarified, still rocking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Draco said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re horrible people,” Harry said, shaking his head. “My cousin Dudley’s alright. Took him some time, but once he went to uni he turned it around real well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s nice,” Draco said slowly. “What are your uncles’ names?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sirius and Remus,” Harry said proudly, a smile on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nearly choked. “Sirius Black?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry whirled to stare at him. “You know him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco coughed. “I’ve never met him. He’s a cousin of my mother’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Harry said. He didn’t smile when he said, “Small world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well. I’ve likely never met him because he was disowned from the Black family,” Draco said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Harry said. “Likely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco cleared his throat and looked down at his lap. “Because he was gay,” Draco added on, unneccessarily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Harry said. “I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry didn’t ask if Draco held the same opinions as the rest of his family, distantly related or not. He was glad for it. If Harry had asked, Draco didn’t know how he would’ve responded. If it were one of his father’s friends, he would have said without a doubt that he opposed the homosexuals. But in front of Harry, whose uncles were allegedly gay, it wasn’t so simple. And it became less simple when Draco let his mind wander to his own qualms about homosexuality in regards to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Harry said cautiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s nice that you’re going home this weekend,” Draco said suddenly. Harry’s rocking stopped rocking, but Draco kept staring straight forward. “I hope your cousin has a nice birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Harry said, and slowly began rocking again. “Anyways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, anyways,” Draco said, relieved for a change in conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen the library?” Harry asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sat straight up and whirled around to face Harry. “There’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>library</span>
  </em>
  <span> here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Harry said, still rocking. “I honestly thought you would’ve found it already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” Draco said. “You wouldn’t have found me sitting out here on this porch if I knew there was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>library</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry laughed. “Okay. I can show you where it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Draco said, standing immediately. “Show me this instant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay,” Harry laughed. He hauled himself up and led Draco into the house, and through various hallways. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will I be able to find my way back here?” Draco asked, looking around. He didn’t think he’d seen this part of the villa yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry smiled over at Draco. “You’ll find your way back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco watched Harry as he walked him through the villa. His back was slender,and the muscles stretching between his shoulder blades and over his spine wrung back and forth with the swing of his arms. Draco tried to pull himself away, but then his eyes found Harry’s ankles peeking out from the hems of his trousers, the lines of his thighs shifting with his steps, the veins running down the backs of his hands. It was impossible to keep his eyes away and not think the things he was thinking. Draco hated himself for it, even as it sent threads of pleasures throughout his senses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here it is.” Harry stopped in front of a set of doors and gestured for Draco to enter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shook his head in wonder and pushed the doors open. They swung forward to reveal a grand room, expanding and crammed with bookshelves. Draco felt his mouth drop open distantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped into the room reverently. There were so many books. Books. Everywhere. Draco couldn’t think clearly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was another one of the things that Lucius had tried to discourage Draco from engaging in. Lucius said, women and colleagues want to see men who know trades and business, not men who know books. But unlike so many of the other things that Draco did to follow his father’s wishes, this was not one of them. It never had been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Books had been his, and his alone, since his mother had first taught him to read with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Le Petit Prince</span>
  </em>
  <span> when Draco was two. Of course, he learned French first, as it was Narcissa’s first language and she wished him to know it before he got sent off to boarding school where, as she claimed, the teachers would try to mold him into “the rigidities of school taught language.” Draco never had a first language. Between his mother’s and father’s teachings, Draco had always known two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But books. They’d always been there, no matter the language, the content, the characters, the facts. No matter what his father yelled at him for, no matter what his mother retreated to her rooms for. The books were there, always waiting for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should’ve asked if the villa had a library instantly. It was foolish to think that there wouldn’t be one. Although Lucius didn’t think that a man should be of books, he did like having an impressive collection to display to whoever visited the Manor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like it?” Harry asked. Draco started; he’d forgotten Harry was here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t bother putting on a posh air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he breathed, and turned his eyes back to the spines and stories rising up from the ground. “It’s wonderful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Harry stayed and watched Draco, or maybe he didn’t. Draco didn’t know. He was lost now in this room, between shelves, tables, pockets where crackling books had been hidden away from the shelves where they belonged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little armchair revealed itself to him, out of the dust motes, and Draco selected a random book off a shelf and settled in to read. Suddenly, spending another two and a half months at this estate with no one to bother him didn’t seem so bad. The feeling had first shown itself when Draco found the little cove by the lake, but now it was rising and growing in his chest along with the words filling his mind. Happiness, or something akin to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wasn’t familiar with it, but he liked it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco emerged hours later when his stomach rumbled too aggressively to be ignored. Draco squinted his eyes, lifting his attention from the book clutched in his hands, to see the last trickles of natural light drifting away behind the frame of the windows lining the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heavens,” Draco muttered to himself. “Must be dinner time by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco smiled to himself and tucked his book on eighteenth century romantic etiquette under his arm. Draco navigated his way out of the paths of the library and drifted towards the dining hall. No one had come to look for him to tell him he had to eat dinner at a certain time. It was pleasurable, to be able to choose for himself when he wanted to eat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, it was a simple fish and chips that Draco could eat easily with one hand while he held his book open in the other. No one could tell him not to read at the dinner table now. Wasn’t it lovely?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His life was looking towards becoming something like his own, and he relished in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finished dinner, he carried his plates to the kitchen and passed them off to Cook Roy with a brilliant smile before walking up to his rooms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drew a bath for himself, which was just as liberating as being able to have a book at the dinner table. He didn’t need Daisy or Kit to do it for him, he could clean himself up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granted, the water scalded him when he stepped into it and he filled it a little too high so the water spilled over the edge when he stepped into it, but even so, it turned out rather nice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco left the windows open in all of his rooms, and the cool scent of coming rain filtered through Draco’s system. He mixed rose water and bergamot oil into the water and stirred it idly with his arm as he sat in the bath, holding one arm out of the water so he could hold a book while he soaked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he sat and read until the water grew cold, and Draco wished to change into his pajamas and wrap himself in his covers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And once he was settled in between his sheets and the duvet, he grabbed his book and settled into the mattress to read for longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco smiled absently at the pages as he flipped one after the other. The book was about one of the subjects that boys at boarding school would’ve been forbidden to study. After all, what did proper young men need to know about growing flowers out of the dirt. They had gardeners to do that. And what did proper young men need to know about the anatomy of a flower bud? And what of the meanings that a bouquet might have held 200 hundred years ago? Nothing, they needed to know nothing of any of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps girls would’ve been allowed to look at it in passing, out of the curiosities of romance, but a young man? Never. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, Draco was a proper young man. He’d been raised as one, after all. He would be forbidden from such books if someone found him with them. But no one had to know, and no one would find him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fell asleep buried in warm covers, his face splayed under the evening breeze, his hair in drying waves, and the pages of a book about flowers dancing through his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mister Draco?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco snorted. Asleep, he was still asleep. And flowers. Why had he dreamed about flowers?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mister Draco?” the voice called again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco snapped up and tumbled out of the bed with the force of his surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” he shouted from the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning tea!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, right,” Draco mumbled to himself. “Tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stood and untangled himself from the blankets, stooping to pick up his book and shove it under the mattress before going to open the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit waited on the other side of the door with a soft smile on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“English Breakfast?” she said, holding up the tray in offering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco opened the door for her, and combed his hair desperately with his fingers while her back was turned as she set down the tea tray. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you sleep?” Kit said, wiping her hands off on her trousers and pouring Draco tea in a pretty little china cup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Draco said, remembering the lovely but nonsensical dream he’d had about planting white poppies in periwinkle hued clouds. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit nodded in acknowledgment before swinging around to clean up Draco’s mess of sheets and the items of clothing he had thrown over odd pieces of furniture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco angled away from her and changed into his clothes for the day. A clean white shirt, not too tight or formal, and tapered trousers. Kit gave him an appreciative look as she swished by him with a basket of laundry. Draco lifted the corners of his mouth, but his eyes didn’t lift with it. He would rather a look like that from- No. Kit was fine. Good. He liked getting nice looks from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be liking breakfast in your rooms, or the dining room today, Mister Draco?” Kit asked, paused in his doorway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No breakfast, please. Thank you, Kit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had plans to get to the library. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t remember exactly how to get there, but once his feet got walking, he found his way there just like Harry said he would. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco twisted through the aisles of the library until he found the same space he had fallen into the day before, the little section with arrays of books about flowers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He collapsed into words today easier than he did yesterday. All he had to do was fold himself up in an embroidered armchair, and then he was adrift in the patterns of being lost in new information. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hours passed. The light slid down the floors and across the walls in the passing of time. Halfway through the afternoon, Draco got up to stretch and found himself distractedly walking down the path to his cove. He hadn’t brought his book along with him, but he didn’t need it. The nature was enough to fill his imagination. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched the plants struggling in the ground on the edges of the path, and then the ones abundantly filling his clearing, and marveled at their resilience. They had been beaten back by the elements thousands of times, and still they flowered and grew and became beautiful with the rise of each season. Draco would’ve liked to be something like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, Draco was so caught up in living in this recent fantasy, that he’d forgotten the real reason he was at the country estate. However, he was quickly reminded of his sentence when Daisy found him in the library after several days of bliss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mister Draco,” Daisy called from the double doors of the library. Draco could recognize Kit, Daisy, and Harry each by voice or footstep only by now. It was easy to catch the details of their difference when those were the only voices he heard day in day out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m in the back,” Draco called back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several minutes later, Daisy’s head poked out between two shelves and she spotted Draco. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you are. This library is such a labyrinth,” Daisy sighed, ambling towards him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t think it was a labyrinth. It was a simple mind puzzle that’s magic rotated around to offer up a new riddle for each day. A beautiful, never ending mystery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is everything alright?” Draco asked Daisy, settling his latest book on his lap and using a finger to mark his place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes,” Daisy waved him off. “A letter came for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The joy Draco had built up in the past couple of days plummeted away in the abyss. It hadn’t been too long, but he’d forgotten to write his father back. And apparently, it had been long enough that his father had decided to send another chiding letter along. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco swallowed and held out his hand for the letter. Daisy placed it in the upturn of his palm, and then leaned her weight against one of the bookshelves nearby. Draco wasn’t sure he wanted her here to witness him read the letter of his incoming demise, but she seemed set on staying, and Draco honestly didn’t have it in him to think about shooing her out. His mind was too full of, </span>
  <em>
    <span>From Malfoy Estates, To Draco Lucius Malfoy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Draco choked out, trying to stave off the inevitable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened the letters with trembling his hands. Daisy watched him from her position by the bookshelf. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Draco,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I await your response.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Warm regards, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucius Malfoy</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco blew out a shaky breath. This wasn’t doom, this was a deadline. He could manage that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mister Draco?” Daisy questioned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Draco said with a small smile. “Everything’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, but still didn’t leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you with something?” Draco asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy hummed and observed Draco. “I just wanted to make sure you were adjusting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was taken aback. “I-yes. I’m adjusting just fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Daisy said, and then turned to go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for asking,” Draco said to her back. She didn’t turn, but her footsteps lost their solemnity as she left the library. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t waste any time responding to his father’s letter. It was about time he simply sat down and got it over with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Father, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My apologies for the delayed response. My days at the estate have been full and busy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In response to your queries about your financial records, I must admit that I took them. I wanted solely to study them and get a handle on the financial matters of our family while away. Unfortunately, in the hurry to get off the train, I must have left the records because I can no longer place their location amongst my belongings. I send my deepest apologies, and vow to make it up to you in whichever way you wish. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In regards to my quarters at Malfoy Manor, I must ask what you found. I have not lived there fully in a great many years, and I cannot recall what items you may have found in that space. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I kindly await your response. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Draco. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was dangerous, what he’d written. But sometimes a risk was needed to keep Draco safe in the long run. Hopefully his father wouldn’t be too offended or angered by his letter. Draco was more than familiar with his father’s wrath from up close, but he did not know how it would manifest while he was so far from his father’s reach, and the not knowing was what made him afraid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He passed the letter off to Daisy when he got the chance, and that was all he could do. What was done, was done. Draco tried not to ruminate over it too much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spent more time in the cove by the lake, in the library, on the front porch. He filled his hours with walks through swaying trees and taking long baths with tea and flower petals. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some might say he was hyper fixated at this point. Seeing as no one was around, Draco didn’t mind much. Even his father’s voice in his head couldn’t win every round. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco idly rolled a pencil between his fingers in thought. He was lying on his stomach on the edges of his clearing by the lake, staring intently at a cluster of chrysanthemums. The breeze blew gently on the pages of a new book Draco had propped up so he could stare at the illustration and the flower side by side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>According to his book, they were widely accepted to mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>hope for the future</span>
  </em>
  <span>. In some parts of Europe and Asia though, they meant death. Draco liked them. He could use some hope in his future, and he didn’t mind that there was an alternative, and darker, meaning. After all, the future of all living things held death. Death and hope, side by side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was just thinking he might take some back to the villa when a voice jolted him out of his leisure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stammered up to his feet with an increasing sense of deja vu. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Potter,” he greeted. Draco lifted his chin up in the air and straightened his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sauntered into the cove with a grin spread wide over his face. “You don't have to call me that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Draco snapped. “What do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry threw his hands up in the air in mock surrender. “Woah. Nothing. Just came to check in on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't need checking in on,” Draco sniffed. He turned away and plopped back down in the grass in front of his books and the chrysanthemums. Harry sat down next to him, and Draco ignored him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s with the flowers?” Harry asked after a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Draco said, his voice quiet. “They are beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No answer from Harry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco continued. “And they have meanings. Each flower has its own message. Did you know people used to send bouquets of flowers to people? Lovers, and enemies, and friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know that, no,” Harry said, leaning back on his forearms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s true,” Draco said softly. He didn’t dare raise his voice here. The gentle lapping of the lake on the grassy shore spilled out into the clear blue sky, along with the hushes of the tree’s balconies. Sunlight skittered through cracks in branches to settle over Draco’s back in a lazy combing gesture, the flowers murmured together, song birds twittered in secrets. “The chrysanthemum一that’s this one here一means hope for the future.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Harry said. His voice was flat, plain, uninterested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco pushed himself up and tried to ignore the blush crawling up his body. Harry didn’t want to hear him mooning over flowers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Right,” Draco said. He stood. Harry stood up after him. “Best be getting back to the house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Harry said. “I’ll walk with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Draco yelped. Harry took a step back, Draco took a deep breath. “No, thank you. I’ll walk back myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Harry said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco snatched his book up from the ground and stalked out of the clearing. As soon as he knew he was out of sight of the clearing, he let his shoulders droop and hung his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d foolishly let Harry see him reading, talked to him for just a second about stupid flowers. Draco kicked his shin with the heel of his own foot. He deserved worse for letting this slip. If word ever got back to his father… this would be the tipping point. The financial records, the mysterious items found in Draco’s room, now a sickly feminine interest in flowers. Draco would get yanked away from the country estate so fast, he wouldn’t have time to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>hope for the future</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco flicked the inside of his wrist. It wouldn’t happen again. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry it took me so long to upload this next chapter! I've had a ton going on, and it took me awhile to finish this one. I'm hoping I'll be able to start posting on a schedule again, but we'll see...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harry left that weekend for his parents’ house, just like he said he would. It didn’t bother Draco in the slightest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even with Harry’s absence, Draco vowed to himself that he wouldn’t let anything like the interaction in the clearing happen again. None of the staff of the country estate needed to know about Draco’s oddness and improper hobbies, especially not Harry Potter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From then on, Draco became very careful about his flower studying habits, among other things. He took care to wander amongst different parts of the forest, around the lake, in the gardens, so that Daisy and Kit never knew where to look for him. Roy wasn’t much of an issue, seeing as Draco had never seen him outside of the monstrous kitchens of the estate, but he stopped bringing his books to dinner all the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The country estate was marvelous in the sense that there was an abundance of places to find. Each day, Draco let his feet carry him to a new place, and each day he found himself somewhere he’d never seen before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today, that place was a copse of trees on the far end of the small lake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco spent the day following the path through the trees on and on until finally, after days of walking farther and farther along the same trail, it stopped. Draco kicked his feet at the end of the path into the flat beige dirt for lack of a better response. He’d been so sure that the path went all the way around the lake. Not that it particularly mattered if it did or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco swung his foot back and attempted to kick a large rock out of his way from where it lay a foot away. He had no desire to go back to the estate, but he couldn’t keep going straight from here. He missed the rock. The momentum of his foot swung him out of balance, and Draco landed flat on his back. He glared up at the sky petulantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air was hotter today, much too hot for Draco to be walking around in his stuffy Manor clothes. Unfortunately, Daisy hadn’t gotten the chance to go into the nearest town for new clothing, so Draco had nothing else to wear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heat and the humidity in combination with his stifling clothes made Draco rather irritable. He huffed and stuck his tongue out at the grinning sky like a child. He put his tongue back in his mouth as soon as he thought of the possibility of someone finding him here. He nearly scrambled to his feet at that very same thought, but as soon as his face stopped its squinting, Draco spotted something above his head. Something yellow suspended from thick branches twined with heavy green leaves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stared up at the trees, and more blinking dots of yellow became visible to him. As soon as he truly looked, he couldn’t stop seeing little yellow jewels flowering out of the coiling trees. Lemons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stood slowly without moving his eyes away from the fruit. Illogically, he feared that if he blinked, the wonder of the lemon trees would disappear. Draco had never seen a lemon tree in real life before, but he’d read extensively about them in the time since he’d arrived at the country estate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lemon trees represented cleansing, freshness, healing. And also, adoration, commitment, and romance. Draco loved them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t think that a person could see a lemon tree, or a trove of them like this, and not fall in love with them. The fruits hung like beads strung from an embroidered velvet canopy, the fruits and the trees rich and brimming with color. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco reached his fingers up, slowly, cautiously. In disbelief. Leaves brushed over his fingertips and he took one of the lemons in his hand and twisted it down away from the branch. It took several hard pulls before it broke from the branch, even as ripe as it was. Draco marveled at it in his palm. He smiled down at the little sun and wrapped his fingers around it carefully. He could hardly believe that it was really in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His reaction was excessive. Draco would have scoffed at anyone else if they’d behaved like he did from the simple sighting of a lemon tree. Multiple lemon trees. One lemon in his hand. It was only a fruit, and a sour one at that. Draco had seen plenty of other trees, and plenty of other fruits. Clearly, he was no stranger to finery. And a lemon, well, it wasn’t exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>finery</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was just a food, occasionally a luxury, but nothing Draco didn’t have access to back at the Manor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps the wonder was in his discovery. In how he had found this place all on his own. No one had brought it to him, or led the way. He had found this, this treasure, by himself, and it was wondrous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco took a step forward, and then another, off the path and through the trove of lemon trees. There was no clearing or cove for him to settle into, but the ground was covered in cool soil and patches of breezing grass, and the roots of the trees spindled out close to the trunks in formations that allowed for a thin man of about twenty four years of age to comfortably sit among them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco walked for a bit, letting his fingers skim over the trunks and through the lush clusters of leaves fluttering slightly with Draco’s movements. He touched the outsides of the lemons, still holding on loosely to the one he’d picked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat among the roots, still without letting his eyes blink away from the fruit above. He stayed there for much too long, staring up at the lemon trees and letting his mind stay blank of shame and worries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held onto the picked lemon when he walked back to the villa, his feet stumbling ahead of him absently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, Draco cut the lemon open over his bath and watched the juice drip between his fingers and over his knuckles into the bath. He squeezed it and more sticky juice squirted over his hands and dribbled down into the hot water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco slid into the water, and it stung a little; lemon was a natural disinfectant. He swirled his fingertips in it, letting the slight burn tinge under his fingernails and between the folds of his limbs. When he got out of the bath his skin smelled of lemons and bubbles, and Draco sighed into it, his nose pressed into the inside of his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he woke up the next morning, the scent remained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco opened his eyes and rolled over in the tangle of white sheets. His sheets smelled of lemons too. He lifted his arm to his face again and breathed into his own skin. Draco smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just then, without any real relevance, Draco thought of Harry. The image of him came unbidden to his mind, but once it appeared under Draco’s eyelids, it refused to leave him alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The image was of Harry, lying beside Draco, wrapped up in the white sheets and Draco’s legs. His back, brown and broad, was visible in the swarm of white, and his curls were crushed and dark against the pillow. He, too, smelled of lemons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s eyes snapped open. He was awake now. More awake than he’d been since he found the trove of lemon trees yesterday. Draco yanked himself out of bed and flurried into action, pulling on his clothes and cleaning himself up for the day. The image of Harry in bed didn’t vanish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried desperately to shake it out of his head with his daily activities, going out of his way to be overly chatty to Daisy and Kit when he passed them in the villa, and eating with intense focus on the food in front of him. He tried to go to the library and forget himself in the books, but all of the books he was reading were about romance and courting and flowers, and that certainly didn’t help anything. Because the real problem with Draco’s image wasn’t that he was in bed with a man, even if that man was an employee of his father’s. The problem was the way Harry was looking at him in it: warm, tired, adoring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco knew that look. It was the look he saw on himself when he dreamed of his future, the one that came to him when he forgot that he had expectations to fulfill. A look that he gave to a faceless person that held on tight to Draco’s waist and kissed him when Draco snapped. It was against everything Draco had to remind himself of every day. The look contradicted Draco’s mantra of body and no feelings, it went against bloodlines and wealthy heirs, against his father’s plans for Draco’s marriage to a woman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shouldn’t一couldn’t一think about that look and what it might mean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco went to find Kit. He avoided thinking about why he was looking for her. If he did, it would only make him feel guilty and sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco found her in the garden, on her knees and buried in striped carnations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Kit,” Draco said. He smiled down at her when she looked up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mister Draco,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco knelt beside her. “You can just call me Draco.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't think一” Kit began. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco held his hand up. “Just Draco. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit nodded and looked back down at the carnations. The edges of the petals were brown and dry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you today?” Draco asked, remembering how much it had pleased him when Harry had asked him how his day was. Draco shook his head. He was trying to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> think about his silly fantasies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit’s face brightened. “I’m doing well. How are you, Draco?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco grinned at her intentional use of his first name. “I’m well, also.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit’s fingers continued to dig into the soil in front of her, sifting over a darker soil with dusted dirt. Every now and then, her slender fingers would touch the carnations and their stems. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Draco asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit touched the ruffled petals of the carnation gently. “I’m mixing compost in with the dirt around the striped carnations.” She sighed and sat back on her heels. “They haven’t been doing well, even with all the sun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco thought about telling her about the language of flowers, what he’d been studying so diligently recently. But he thought about Harry’s reaction and his own vow to keep his oddities to himself, and kept his mouth shut. Besides, he didn’t know what striped carnations meant, and he wouldn’t want to seem uneducated about a subject he’d been researching so carefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help?” Draco said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit brushed her hands off on her linen skirt and stared at him. “Are you sure?” She looked at his clothes, and Draco’s eyes followed. He was wearing a full three pieced suit. “I don't want your… outfit to get ruined.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Draco shrugged. “It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood quickly and pulled off his jacket, tie, and vest, leaving on his button up shirt, suspenders, and trousers. Kit kept her eyes carefully trained on her knees dug into the soil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sat back down beside her. “Tell me what to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit showed him how to mix the compost into the top layer of the soil around each of the plants. She told him that normally, the compost was mixed in before the flowers were planted, but it could help fertilize the soil when the plants were struggling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite Draco’s immoral reasons for going looking for Kit, he enjoyed spending time with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barely five minutes into helping in the garden, Draco accidentally flicked a shovel of dirt and compost into his face. He sat stock still, afraid to move, before he heard Kit giggling. Something soft grazed over his cheeks, and Draco’s eyes fluttered open. Kit’s hand hesitated close over his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Draco said. His breath hit her wrist and billowed back into his own face. He lifted his hand and took her hand carefully. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled back, but a smile rested on her face. “Here,” she said, taking the shovel from Draco. She held it firmly between her hands and stabbed it into the ground. “Like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco took the hand shovel back and let his fingers linger over hers. She didn’t pull back this time. Draco did his best to jab the shovel into the earth like Kit did. It was not nearly as graceful, but no dirt went flying up in his face, so he considered it a win. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Kit said, nodding in approval. “You’ll get it in no time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all down to your teaching,” Draco complimented her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit shook her head. “If you think I’m a good teacher, you should do this with Harry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry?” Draco’s voice rose several pitches. With the mention of Harry, the stable boy, the image he’d been trying to avoid all morning began to revitalize itself in Draco’s mind again. Draco flushed. He could feel red flowering all over his cheeks and neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit gave him a strange look, her eyebrows lifted. “Yes. I’m not the normal gardener, of course. That’s Harry’s job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s voice rose even higher. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry Potter </span>
  </em>
  <span>is the gardener?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit sat back away from Draco. “He is. Why do you say it like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco looked away. Nothing made sense. Why would Harry be so disinterested in Draco’s rambling about flowers if he was the official gardener of the country estate? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun beat down on Draco’s back and over his cheekbones and his nose. Quiet expanded between him and Kit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I一” Draco stopped. He’d told himself he was going to be careful around others. “It’s just surprising, that’s all. He doesn't seem like a person who would willingly spend his time around the delicacy of flowers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s face snapped up to meet her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit turned away. “I know. It’s alright.” She pressed her fingertips into the ground, looking like she was trying to tether herself to something solid. “I’m only taking care of the garden while Harry’s away for the weekend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Draco said. His knees and heels were starting to hurt from hunching over the ground for so long. “I apologize. I spoke inappropriately.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit lifted her shoulders and dropped them. “I really don't mind, Draco.” Her eyes found him again, and held him there. “I’m curious about something, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco swallowed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you fancy Harry?” Kit asked plainly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nearly choked. “What?” he spluttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit shook her head and repeated herself. “Do you fancy Harry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not!” Draco said. The look Kit gave him made it clear that she didn’t believe him. Draco didn’t believe himself either. He stood. “Thank you, Kit, for your company today. I’d better get back to the villa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Kit said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco practically ran back to the villa to lock himself in his rooms. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She knew, she knew, she knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The vision came back to Draco full force and he closed his eyes against it. False sensations crashed into him. Harry’s warm hand running down his back, nothing in between their skin, the scent of lemons burning Draco’s sinuses, his feet pressed into Harry’s calves, his mouth一No. He couldn’t let his mind take him that far. It was already too late. It wasn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and it was making Draco crazy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco tried denial, he tried convincing himself, but nothing could be done. His brain had finally caught up to his body after all these years of pushing away the truth, and there was no way to avoid it now. Draco Malfoy liked men. Not just for their bodies, not just as a fantasy. He wanted to marry a man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco groaned and threw himself down on his bed. His father would kill him if he ever found out. Not that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> find out. Draco wouldn’t let him find out. And yet… how would he hide it if he wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>marry a man?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Draco groaned again, louder. He couldn’t believe this of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But no. Draco didn’t have to marry a man. He’d been fantasizing for twenty four years, so who’s to say he couldn’t do it for the rest of his life? He could still marry a woman, please his father, conceive heirs. Draco shuddered. Perhaps not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could live alone. Tell no one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes. Draco sat up straight, the image of a gentleman, and nodded fiercely to himself. He would be silent, let nothing slip, die a virgin. It would be fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was only one small problem. Kit knew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, Draco considered, it was a small problem. If he could convince her that he wasn’t, in fact, attracted to men, then there would be no problem at all. His reaction this afternoon had shown his hand a bit, but Draco was rather talented at back tracking on his actions. He’d been doing it his whole life for a variety of reasons, most of them made up of trying to make his father proud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sat himself up and marched down the stairs, and out of the villa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kit,” Draco said when he found her in the gardens, kneeling still by the striped carnations. Draco made a mental note to look up the meaning of striped carnations later in his latest book on the language of flowers. Surely, it would be a promising sign for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up and wiped her hands off on her skirt. “Draco?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He folded himself down to sit next to her. “My apologies for my rude departure. I had a sudden stomach ache, but I’m feeling much better now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit’s eyebrows lifted. “Really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nodded fervently. “Yes. Now, as to what you said earlier一”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A look of realization dawned on Kit’s face, and she sighed and turned back to the flowers. “Oh, Draco. I didn’t mean to offend or misjudge. I only wondered based on your behavior.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Draco said. “I don't blame you at all. It was only a misjudgement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit paused, keeping her eyes down on her hands in the dirt. “It’s okay if it wasn’t a misjudgement,” she said quietly. “There’s nothing wrong with liking Harry.” Draco was struck speechless for a moment, enough time for Kit to continue. “He’s strong, and gorgeous, and has the sweetest smile, and always tucks his shirts in to his trousers even though they inevitably come untucked before ten in the morning一”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh heavens,” Draco said. He lifted a shaky hand to his forehead. Several things were coming together in Draco’s mind. “You like Harry, don't you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red flushed all over Kit’s face. “I don't,” she said sharply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do,” Draco said, shaking his head. “Oh heavens, you do.” He laughed aloud. “Oh, Kit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, keeping the secret of Draco’s attraction didn’t seem so important. He laughed again and tipped over, letting his forehead fall into the dirt. Draco might’ve been slightly delirious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at us,” he said. Draco’s voice warbled and jumped between octaves. Kit stared at him with wide frightened eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco?” she said, hesitant. The red blush still coated her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco picked himself out of the dirt and stood. “Would you like to come into the house?” he asked. His stomach was swooping and his vision was swooping around in blurry circles, but he tried to keep a sense of composure. “Let’s have a cup of tea and cool down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit looked around her. She looked back up at Draco. “Er. Alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Draco beckoned. He held out a hand to help her stand. “I insist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Kit said. She took a deep breath and stood, clasping gently onto Draco’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked arm in arm to the house, where Draco lead her to the kitchens and sat her down at a chopping table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make the tea,” Draco said when Kit tried to get up and take the cups out of his hands. “It’s the one thing I do know how to make.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit nodded and sat down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes later, Draco set down two cups on the table and sat across from them. The edges of the cup were decorated with painted irises, dainty and flowering around the china. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco took a sip from his tea and looked straight at Kit. “So,” he began, “you like Harry.” It wasn’t a question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit didn’t move, but her lack of response was answer enough. Draco nodded to her in confirmation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nausea prickled at Draco’s insides. He took several breaths, but none of them seemed capable of getting enough oxygen into his lungs. “Me too,” Draco said finally. He swallowed down the rising bile. “I like Harry too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco cursed at himself. He’d been meaning to convince Kit that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>like Harry, and here he was admitting the opposite. Too late now. The words were out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit’s eyes lifted to meet his. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then Kit smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for telling me,” she said, and leaned forward to put a hand over Draco’s. “It’s brave of you to do so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s hands tightened around his mug. “Brave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Telling someone who you really are is difficult,” Kit said. She smiled at Draco cautiously. It took a moment, but Draco smiled back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He coughed lightly and stared down into his tea. “Kit…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t tell anyone.” Draco’s voice was small. “No one can know. Especially not my family. Or Harry. Just please don’t tell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit shook her head. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. But if you ever decide that you do want to tell people, know that I’m right here, and I’ll support you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco modded. “I don’t think I ever will, but… thank you. It means a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It did mean a lot. The relief of telling Kit about Draco’s attraction had exhaled towering amounts of tension and fear that had been building up in Draco. He hadn’t expected that letting go of this secret would feel so good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Kit was open and understanding. Draco didn’t think his parents, especially his father, would hold the same opinion. His mother likely wouldn’t care, but she wouldn’t try to sway his father either. She would be a bystander. And in some cases, a bystander was as good as a perpetrator. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a proposition,” Kit said, sipping down the rest of her tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m listening,” Draco replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s abandon the flirting,” Kit said. Draco opened his mouth to protest his involvement in any such actions, but Kit held up a hand to stop him. “Let’s be friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wasn’t very good at friends. The closest thing he had to a friend was a Pansy, and they rarely spoke. Draco hadn’t even seen her since they graduated school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Kit said. “Friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco said, “Alright then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held out his hand to shake. Kit laughed, but she took his hand and shook it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it turned out, being friends with Kit was easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them got along well. They walked through the gardens each morning, and Draco would make them tea in the afternoons. Draco would drift after Kit as she went through her chores, and whenever she allowed it, he would do his best to help. Draco wondered if this is what his parents had been intending when they said they wished to humble him, but he didn’t much care. Spending time with Kit was pleasant, and Draco had no qualms about helping with laundry, gardening, cleaning, and other things. With a friend, those things weren’t so bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, Draco had never known how to do any chores in the first place. Everything semed more difficult without instruction, but with Kit guiding him, Draco picked it up easily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being with Kit consumed Draco’s time and thoughts to such an extent, that he nearly forgot about Harry Potter altogether. Nearly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t last long. Harry came back on Monday from his parents’ house, smiley and golden as ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hullo,” Harry said cheerfully, poking his head into the kitchens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco jumped and spilled half his tea down his front. He whirled, saw Harry in the doorway, and then turned away, muttering to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Harry asked, walking toward Draco. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite,” Draco gritted out. Draco held his stained shirt away from his skin, but the damage had already been done. The spilt tea burned Draco’s skin where it had soaked through his shirt and splashed down his trousers. Draco tried not to wince or squint his eyes up in pain, but the tea kept stinging through, no matter how hard Draco tried to hold his clothes away from himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry gasped as he got closer. “Oh god,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I made you spill your tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s hands fluttered in the air helplessly; Draco batted them away. It would be best if Harry didn’t touch Draco, lest he wanted inappropriate things to take place here on the kitchen counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco tried to back away from the pain and Harry, as if it were something he could avoid, and ended up backing straight into the counter and a rack of pans. All of them came crashing down over Draco’s shoulders and back, rattling down onto the floor in a torrent of clanging. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry yelped and leaped forward, but Draco backed further away, knocking into the counters. Harry caught the hint this time. He stepped back swiftly, holding his hands up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Harry said. “Sorry, I didn’t meanーsorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Draco gasped out. He could hardly think through the burning, and now the bruised soreness of his shoulders, arms, and back. His breath came out too fast. “It’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Footsteps rocketed through the halls, and three faces appeared in the door for a moment before three bodies came rushing in to the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Draco, are youー”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mister! What happened toー”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What onー”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s face turned beet red, and he held his hands up further in the air. No one noticed him. Roy, Kit, and Daisy whirred past him and surrounded Draco. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shook his head, and tried to wave them off, but none of them were persuaded. The only one who didn’t come near him was Harry. Draco expected this, of course. He had been the one to shove Harry back. Which was for the best. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy was the one to figure out that they should take Draco’s shirt off to assess the damage. When she spoke this thought allowed, Draco looked up instinctively to Harry, who was staring back at him with wide eyes. Draco looked away immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kit took off his shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gasped as soon as she could see the skin underneath the fussy fabric of his button down. Draco looked up to the ceiling so he wouldn’t have to see their reactions, or the injury they were studying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were other things under his shirt too. Things that other people weren’t supposed to see. Things like skin that was far too pale, ribs that jutted out a little at the bottom because Draco’s eating habits couldn’t keep up with his body’s energy use, the smatters of moles that Draco detested. Things like the tiny flecked heart Draco had carved into his own skin when he was nine because he believed that the only person who would ever truly love him was himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one commented on these other things, and for this, Draco was grateful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But apparently the burn he had acquired demanded attention, and so they took off the rest of his shirt and slung his arms around their shoulders and told him to walk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t look down at the burn. He avoided looking at their faces too. Unfortunately, there was one face that Draco could not avoid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as Kit and Daisy were dragging a swaying Draco out the kitchen door, his head swiveled around to catch a last glimpse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry stood still, his hands hung loosely at his sides and his shoulders slumped over. His eyebrows were drawn together, and his eyes were trained on Draco. Draco couldn’t place the look on his face, but before he could get time to think about it, Kit and Daisy had successfully maneuvred him over the lip in the doorway and moved him into the hallway. And Harry was out of sight again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I have no idea if this story is cohesive at all because of how I’m writing in increments, but I hope you like it!</p><p>All the flowers I mention in this story have meanings, even if I don't explicitly write them ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry it took me so incredibly long to finish writing this chapter, and thank you so much to all the people who commented on the last one! It helped me bucket loads in finding the motivation to finish this chapter &lt;3</p><p>Hopefully the next one won't take so long...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The windows, or doors rather, in Draco’s rooms led out to a small balcony. There was nothing on the balcony except for the sheer curtains blown in by the wind, and a grumpy Draco Malfoy, who had half a mind to drop a book on Harry Potter’s head from over the white painted railing. </p><p>Thankfully, he did no such thing. Instead, he simply stood on the balcony and glared down at the top of Harry Potter’s inky head, sun reflecting off of his dark curls and the breeze lifting the fringe off his forehead in such a way that Draco rather wished Harry Potter would shave his whole head bald. </p><p>But then, Harry Potter was probably just as handsome with no hair at all as he was with a full mop of it. And now Draco was thinking of Harry with a buzzed head, and the whole notion was altogether ridiculous. </p><p>Draco shook his head and scolded himself furiously. This whole pattern was becoming slightly frightening, what with the leaning out over the balcony every time Harry trotted by like a swooning maiden. Draco prided himself on <em> not </em> being a swooning maiden, but his recent actions were quite contradictory. </p><p>Just then, Harry’s head lifted from where it had been downturned over a bed of struggling daffodils. Draco threw himself back into his rooms, nearly ripping the curtains off the rod in the process. He tumbled over the lip that marked the entrance to the balcony and fell face first onto the polished floors. Draco groaned, and hoped desperately that Harry wasn’t aware of what had just occurred. </p><p>Really, Draco could be stupid at times. Why wouldn’t he turn his head away and pretend to be looking at something else? Then he would be able to pretend he’d just spotted Harry staring up at him, and could have made a snarky comment down to him. Instead, Draco had decided to fall back, as dramatically as possible, to get out of Harry’s sight. Well. He could hold a small sliver of hope that Harry hadn’t seen. </p><p>“Draco? Are you alright?” A voice called up. </p><p>Draco banged his head down onto the ground. There was no mercy for him in this world. </p><p>“Perfect, Potter.” Draco banged his head again. “I’m simply perfect.”</p><p>“Looked like you took quite a tumble there!”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Draco shouted back. There were no further responses after that. </p><p>Draco rolled his eyes at himself and pushed his body off the ground into a sitting position. He rubbed his hands over his face, and mumbled incoherently to himself. There were few greater fools than he. </p><p>Oh, well. Draco decided this was as good a time as any to go down to the lemon trove. Now that Harry was back, his flowered clearing and the library were both limited hiding options, as Harry knew to find Draco there. As far as Draco knew, no one but him was aware of the lemon trove, and if they were, they didn’t know Draco had taken it up as his most recent hiding place. </p><p>The caking heat of the day had already settled into the ground, and radiated from above and below as Draco trekked out to the lemon trove. He tugged at the edges of his buttoned collar, and hoped that Daisy would get a chance to go into town for new clothing soon. Each day he spent sweating through his uptight collared clothes that he wore in the smog of London was another set of clothing ruined, and another slight raise in Draco’s irritation. </p><p>Despite the heat, the lemon trove was as wonderful as the first time Draco had come. The fruits hung from the trees, and glinted cheerfully in dappled sunlight when Draco skimmed his hands over the leaves, careful to avoid the vicious thorns protruding from the branches. He pulled them off as he went, stuffing them into his pockets, and then trying to hold too many in his hands when the seams of his trousers started to pop from holding one too many lemons. </p><p>Draco held onto them for most of the day, walking back and forth through the trees, and holding so many of the yellow treasures that his fingers ached and cramped up. He walked back to the house with them when the sky began to grow darker, and dropped some off in the kitchen for Roy, and then took the others up to his rooms with him. </p><p>Draco lined up the lemons one by one around his room. A line on the windowsill, a line on the dresser, a line on the tea table, a line in front of the balcony, a line around the bathtub. He had enough lemons to decorate his whole room with them if he spread them out a bit and was careful not to squish any. </p><p>He saved one for his bath, and cut it open over the water when he was naked and soaking in hot water. He didn’t draw this bath for himself, Kit did, but Draco thanked her profusely and gave her one of his lemons before hugging her goodnight. She hugged him back, surprised, before closing the door quietly behind her. </p><p>Draco sat then, staring down at the halves of lemon in his hands. One of them was squeezed out, the juice swirling and stinging in the bath. The other laid in his hand, warm from his palm, and the juice welling up between the wedges. </p><p>Draco bit down on the lemon. He wasn’t sure why; it was odd. And it was bitter, so bitter. Draco spit it out and let it dribble down his chin before dunking his face in the water in disgust. </p><p>Perhaps lemons symbolized adoration, but they tasted sour. </p><p>He dropped both of the lemon halves in the water and waved his hands through the water. Now, without the distraction of lemons, Draco was obligated to look at what he’d been trying to avoid all day. </p><p>Red welts rose up from his skin, marking from the middle of his chest down to the tops of his hip bones. Draco sunk down lower into the hot water and stared at himself. It would go away, Daisy had assured him. The bruises from the falling pots would too. And they didn’t even hurt so much, not now. The burns needled at the surface of his flesh under the bathwater, but the worst of it was over. </p><p>Draco never much liked looking at himself. He was vain about his face, and his clothes, and his hair, but he’d much rather avoid the rest of his body. With the injuries, though, it was difficult to look away. </p><p>Draco slid further and further down until his head was completely submerged in the water, and he could neither hear nor see anything. He stayed like that until he could no longer hold his breath, and then he came up for a breath, and then went back down again. He did this until the bathwater grew cool, and he was required to turn in for bed before he caught a cold. </p><p> </p><p>The next day brought a reprieve in Daisy. </p><p>“Mister Draco.” She rapped on the door. Draco came quickly, marking his page in his book and shoving it down in a chair cushion. </p><p>He opened the door. “Good day, Daisy.”</p><p>She bustled in with an armful of parcels concealing her face. “You’ll be glad to hear I got the chance to go in for some new clothes.”</p><p>Draco smiled and took several of the packages out of her hands and set them aside on the couch. “Very glad indeed.”</p><p>Daisy dumped the rest of the parcels down unceremoniously and stepped back with her hands on her hips. “Good.” She waved Draco over and then took him by the shoulders and moved him to the center of the room. “Now I’ll have you try them on, and I’ll make sure all the measurements fit right. If something isn’t just right, I’ll take some thread to it and fix it up for you.”</p><p>Draco nodded. “Wonderful.”</p><p>Daisy bent over and unfolded the brown paper of the closest package. From it, she pulled out a bundle of ivory fabric. Draco squinted at it, but it was indecipherable until Daisy shook it out to reveal numerous creamy shirts, folded together haphazardly. Draco picked one up by the sleeve and held it out in front of him. </p><p>“There’s no embroidery,” Draco remarked. And indeed, there was not. The shirt was made of a light linen with loose buttons lined up the front, and a relaxed collar folding down over where Draco assumed his collarbones would be. </p><p>“Of course not,” Daisy said. “It’s not part of a three piece suit, now is it?”</p><p>“I assume not,” Draco said drily. He set the shirt back down. It appeared to be very一there was no other word for it一country. Draco tried not to mind. After all, hadn’t the past three weeks shown him that the countryside wasn’t all bad?</p><p>Daisy hummed along as she pulled off Draco’s current shirt and traded it for one of the new ones. Draco was surprised to find it soft and loose, but oddly comfortable. He was right about the collar; the shirt dipped down to show his collarbones if he didn’t button it up all the way. Daisy tutted when he tried to do up all the buttons, and said:</p><p>“You’re not supposed to button it to your throat, Mister Draco.”</p><p>“Just Draco.”</p><p>“<em> Draco </em>, the style is supposed to be relaxed. Don't do up all the buttons.”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>The trousers were much the same. Tailored, breathable, and a perfect cut to accentuate the slimness of his waist next to the length of his legs. Daisy had also bought him suspenders, a few sturdy jackets, several sweaters for cool evenings, socks, and a leather bag. </p><p>Draco held up the bag in question. “What will I use this for?”</p><p>Daisy jabbed a pin through the sleeve dangling a little loose around his wrist before turning her attention to what he was holding up. “Oh! Every young gentleman and lady needs a nice bag to carry their things.”</p><p>Draco weighed it in his hands. “It is nice. But what will I put in it? I don't leave the estate.”</p><p>Daisy gave him a pointed look. “Maybe it’s about time you do so.”</p><p>Draco set the bag down carefully and didn’t push the subject further. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to leave the estate. He supposed nothing would stop him. His parents couldn’t drag him away from the nearby towns from where they were residing in Wiltshire, so the choice was his. But Draco didn’t want to go out, and have to deal with stiff letters from his father if word got back to him that Draco had been going against his wishes. Best to write to him about it first before taking off. Draco was expecting a letter from Lucius any day now anyways. In his next reply, he would inquire about going out to town. </p><p>It turned out that only one of his shirts needed adjustments, and one of the jackets was a little too long, but all of the other items Daisy had bought fit Draco well. </p><p>“You’re a country boy, now,” Daisy said, stepping back to look at him and looking terribly pleased with herself. </p><p>Draco turned red. “Thank you. It will be a pleasure not to have to wear my heavier fabrics.”</p><p>Daisy nodded. “Yes. Thank your father. He paid for all of these.” She gestured at the neatly folded clothes in front of him. </p><p>“You chose them.”</p><p>“That I did,” Daisy said. She smiled before bustling out of the room, the clothes that needed altering thrown over her arm. </p><p>With her gone, Draco took the time to run his fingers over all the clothes again, rubbing the material between his fingers and refolding all the shirts. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he liked these clothes a significant amount. Apart from being practical, they held a certain casual fashion that Draco rather fancied. </p><p>Draco ditched the Manor clothes he’d been wearing earlier that day and put on some of the new clothes Daisy brought. Cream shirt, tapered trousers, suspenders, his treasured Oxfords he’d worn on the train. </p><p>Feeling lighter and happier with himself than he had since he’d arrived at the estate, Draco made his way down to the library. He only wished to stop in quickly and pick up a new book. He’d finished his first reads of all the books he could find on the language of flowers, and although he intended to study them further, he was in need of something fresh to focus on. He found something relatively new in <em> Pride and Prejudice </em>. </p><p>Draco had written a paper on <em> Pride and Prejudice </em> in school, but he’d never actually read the book. His stance on the paper was to analyze a notorious story from an outsider’s perspective. The truth was that Draco hadn’t had the time to read the book before the assignment was due. The professor had told him, privately, that his argument was excellent, but he hadn’t fulfilled the prompt. Draco didn’t mind the slight dip in his grades; the compliment from the professor was reward enough. </p><p>Now, with this time on his hands in the middle of nowhere, seemed a fair time to actually read the book. </p><p>Just as Draco was leaving the library, a body stepped in front of him. Draco instantly knew it to be Harry’s without looking up. Kit and Daisy didn’t have his height, and Roy never withdrew from his cooking. </p><p>Draco kept his eyes down. “Hello, Potter.”</p><p>“Draco,” Harry greeted. </p><p>Draco began to walk down the corridor and Harry stayed by his side, matching his steps to Draco’s. </p><p>“How are you today?” Harry asked. </p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>It didn’t take long for Harry to get to the real reason he’d sought Draco out. “Look, Draco, I’m so sorry aboutー”</p><p>Draco held up a hand. “Don't.” He dropped his hand. “Have a nice rest of your day.” With that, Draco picked up the speed of his footsteps and sped ahead of Harry. Harry was smart enough not to try to keep up with him. </p><p>Draco didn’t want Harry to apologize to him. In fact, Draco didn’t want to talk to Harry Potter ever again. Whenever he looked into the soft lines of Harry’s face, he had the strong desire to place his hands on Harry’s cheeks and hold him close. That wasn’t an urge Draco particularly wanted to elaborate on, at least not in real life. </p><p>Despite his telling Kit of his <em> feelings </em>, Draco had no intentions of acting on them, nor did he think he would end up in a position where it would be appropriate for himself to get involved with Harry. Or any men. Acknowledging Draco was attracted to men was one thing. Behaving according to that attraction was quite another. </p><p>In any case, Draco would rather not interact with Harry Potter considering his conflicted emotions and the strung up tension between them. </p><p>Draco clutched onto <em> Pride and Prejudice </em>and loped out to the front porch. As soon as he’d settled into one of the rocking chairs, it occurred to him that Harry would be able to approach him very easily from here, so he got up, and moved to the next place. The lemon trove seemed too far a trek for today, so Draco went back inside the house and up to his rooms. </p><p>There he spent the rest of his daylit hours, reading and avoiding Harry. </p><p> </p><p>“I rather thought the book was excellent.”</p><p>Draco set his tea cup down on its plate with a clatter. “I can’t believe you’d read it, and didn’t tell me the whole time I was ranting on about the wiles of Mr. Darcy’s character!”</p><p>Kit laughed and rolled her eyes, setting her cup down more gently than Draco had. “I didn’t want to interrupt your speech. It was clearly well thought out.”</p><p>Draco leaned back in his seat and huffed. “Yes, well, I’ve had a fair amount of time to think about it.”</p><p>Daisy laughed again before taking another sip of her tea. “Yes, I’m sure.” She set her cup down, and straightened the folds of her trousers neatly. “Daisy mentioned to me that you might have some interest in going out to town.”</p><p>Draco hummed. Birds chittered behind him, and he tilted his head back to let the sun bask down onto his face. </p><p>“She suggested it,” Draco said. He smiled slightly. “I don't believe I said one way or the other if I was interested.”</p><p>Kit waved her hand at him and turned her gaze out to the gardens sprawling out around them. “Daisy does that. Assumes she knows what people want.” She looked to Draco and tapped her fingers on the table to get his attention. “She’s usually right, though.”</p><p>Draco let a soft laugh slip out of his mouth, and took the last sip of his lavender tea without replying to Kit. </p><p>“I would be happy to go with you,” she said, “if you really were interested in going.”</p><p>Draco looked to her. He didn’t need to ponder the issue. There were very few people in the world that Draco held interest in, very few that he enjoyed spending time with. Only one that he enjoyed spending time with, really. “I would love that,” he said. </p><p>“Perfect,” Kit said with a wide smile. </p><p>Draco noted absently that her left front tooth was slightly crooked, and that her smile turned up her eyes far too much to be considered attractive. He had never seen a more beautiful person before, he didn’t think. Friendship forged love, he thought, and barely hated himself for being cliche. Draco looked away and folded his hands in his lap. He wouldn’t say these things to her, but there were other ways to show someone how you appreciated them. </p><p>“Did you know,” Draco began, “that lemon trees and lemon blossoms symbolize different things?”</p><p>There was a pause before Kit answered. “I did not.”</p><p>Draco nodded out to the sunshine and flowers. “Lemon trees symbolize adoration and commitment. Lemon blossoms are the symbol of discretion.”</p><p>“And what of the lemons themselves?”</p><p>“No one can agree on it,” Draco said. “Some people believe it is longevity, others believe it is love or friendship. Still others think that it revolves around bitterness and disappointment.”</p><p>Kit leaned forward in her seat, positioned under an umbrella that was currently open and casting shade over a patch of pink peonies. “What do you think it means?”</p><p>“Cleansing,” Draco answered after a long pause. “Lemons are a natural disinfectant, so I suppose it must symbolize being clean.”</p><p>“Interesting,” Kit said. </p><p>“Why?”</p><p>She shrugged. “I don't know. It’s interesting that you know these things, I suppose. Interesting that you bring it up now.”</p><p>Draco’s eyebrows furrowed. “Sorry the subject was so out of nowhereー”</p><p>“Don't apologize,” Kit interrupted. Her lips spread open in another wide smile. “I am glad to hear it. You don't say much. I want to hear about the things in your head.”</p><p>Draco’s cheeks heated up, and he looked down. This was his way of showing friendship. He hadn’t had many opportunities to do so in the past, but now seemed as good a time as ever. No matter how it made his stomach turn and his face go blotchy. “I read a lot. Recently, I’ve been reading about the language and meaning of flowers. It doesn't all make sense to me yet, but I like learning about it.” Draco took a deep breath and ignored Kit’s wide eyes observing him. “Lemons happen to be a certain interest of mine.”</p><p>Kit nodded and shifted her eyes away. Draco got the sense that she wished to continue looking at him, but knew that it made him uncomfortable. </p><p>“Well,” she said. “It is certainly a fascinating subject. One I haven’t delved into myself, but I am interested to hear about it.”</p><p>Draco’s mouth turned up. “Yes, fascinating.”</p><p>He would tell her more about it some other time. As Draco had learned from experience, trying to absorb it all at once jumbled up the colors and meanings in one’s brain to the point that they were indecipherable. It was better to focus on one flower at a time. Lemons were the best place to start, the most delightful and intriguing. Draco still had no plans to tell Kit of the lemon trove on the estate, whether or not she was already aware of it. </p><p>“Oh!” Kit said suddenly, sitting up in her chair. “I nearly forgot.” She dug a hand into her pocket and pulled out a slightly rumpled envelope. Draco didn’t need Kit’s next words to know what it was. “Your father sent a letter.”</p><p>Draco held his hand out for it. “Thank you.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>Draco politely excused himself from afternoon tea soon after that in order to read his father’s letter privately. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Draco,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Thank you for your honesty about the misplaced financial records. I am extraordinarily disappointed in your lack of responsibility in leaving our family’s records out for anyone to read. You are very lucky that we keep clean finances, and that we have back up copies of our financial records. As punishment, I am sending you a direct copy of the records. I expect you to write a full report of the Malfoy’s finances beginning in 1846 and continuing to the present. Be prompt.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In your previous letter, you inquired after our findings in your quarters at the Malfoy Manor. The findings were, to put it mildly, obscene. A stash poorly hidden in a chest under your bed with piles of photographs and letters. Your mother rather thought the whole scenario was innocent, but I beg to differ. Why do you have a mound of letters that you’ve written to your future “love”? Why are these letters addressed to a man? I can put the pieces together myself quite well, but I’d rather like to hear an explanation from you. As for the photographs, I must gather that these were not a collection from “a great many years” ago, as you wrote. The photographs are taken of people in London, that much is clear. The underlying theme of the photographs, however, are not. Whatever the meaning of this all is, I would like to hear it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Your mother is well, as am I.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Warm regards,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucius Malfoy </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Draco blew out a breath and folded the letter back up. He stared up at the arching ceilings of his room before unfolding the letter and reading it over again. </p><p>The financial record crisis had been averted for the most part. Draco didn’t greatly mind writing a report on the Malfoy records, although it would be incredibly tedious. As for the stash under the bed, Draco was both relieved and strung up. </p><p>For one, he was grateful that it hadn’t been something worse. He couldn’t clearly remember all of the slight disobediences he had carried out in his younger years. Draco thought the worst he had done was hide an unfavorable dinner in his napkin before throwing it out, but who was to say if he had somehow got ahold of a magazine with nude male models? Pansy had rather liked those in their fourth year, and there was no knowing for sure if Draco had mysteriously gotten his hands on one of them for his own personal intrigue. </p><p>No, Draco hadn’t done such a thing, Draco was sure of it. He would remember it if he had. </p><p>In some ways, though, this was worse. Because Draco couldn’t pretend these were old obsessions; they were clearly ones that had penetrated the present. Therefore, it would be more difficult to play it off as something unimportant. </p><p>Draco found it amusing how fickle his father’s interest in him were. For months on end, he would have no interest in having to do anything with Draco. But then suddenly, on a whim, he cared enough to send Draco across the country and go rummaging through his belongings and discipline him with essay writing. It was all very confusing, being cared for only when it was interesting or convenient. </p><p>As for the letters and photographs, Draco could remember those quite clearly. </p><p>The letters had been written before Draco had even gone off to boarding school, before he knew that he wasn’t supposed to like other boys, before he found out that it was better to manage attraction by removing the emotions from the whole endeavor. They had been written by a Draco who had believed that one day, someone would find him who was meant for him. Probably before he had scraped that little heart into his hip bone too. He must have written them when his handwriting was still stumbly and his spelling inadequate. </p><p>Draco swallowed hard. The thought was sickening, a little Draco writing letters to a future love that he would never find. The little Draco hoping beyond belief that something in his life would be good without complications and fine print. </p><p>He shook his head. He had to think about this like an equation: one part at a time that could be solved with a sharp process. </p><p>The photos. Well, there was very little that Draco could say about those. He might say that he had recently acquired an interest in photographing civilization. His father wouldn’t be pleased in him trying to pursue a craft other than business and horse breeding, but if he couldn’t put together that all the photographs were of passerby Draco found attractive, then maybe he could play it off. If Lucius did figure that out… Draco would have to come up with something else. </p><p>Draco pressed his fingers into his temples. It was all very exhausting to think about. All of Lucius’ letters seemed to have this effect on him. Draco folded the parchment up and tucked it back into the envelope before tossing it onto a side table. </p><p>He couldn’t think about it right now. It had already ruined his pleasant mood from tea and the lemons he’d picked the day before, and now his head and stomach were aching with worry. A walk would be of some assistance. </p><p>Draco left his room, checking over the buttons of his new clothes before stepping out into the halls and striding out of the house. He didn’t pay too much attention to where he was going, and his feet carried him to the little cove by the lake that he’d been avoiding. </p><p>Very little time passed before Draco was reminded of why he had been avoiding this clearing in the first place. </p><p>“Draco?”</p><p>Draco’s head swiveled around to see Harry Potter standing at the edge of the cove, wringing his hands together. </p><p>Draco’s eyes narrowed and he turned his head back to rest on his folded knees. “What is it?”</p><p>Footsteps sounded behind him, and a cautious body settled next to Draco. “Hi there,” Harry said. </p><p>“Hello.” Draco stared straight ahead. He didn’t say what he was thinking, which was, <em> why are you always finding me here? </em></p><p>Out of the corner of Draco’s eye, he remarked Harry turning his head to stare out over the water in a mimickry of Draco. </p><p>“I haven’t seen you around much,” Harry said. </p><p>Draco snorted. “I should think not.”</p><p>“I gathered you were avoiding me.” Harry’s face pivoted to Draco’s. “Were you?”</p><p>Draco’s fingers twisted in the grasses underneath him. There was no point denying it. Even Draco was aware that his avoidance had been obvious. “Yes.”</p><p>Harry didn’t ask why, a small relief. “I’m sorry,” he said instead. “For making you spill scalding tea all over yourself, and for the pans. And for whatever else I did.”</p><p>Draco looked at him. His face was turned up towards Draco’s like a sunflower towards the sun, and his eyes were big and lovely and green. Harry’s cheeks were inexplicably pink, and his hands were still twisting around themselves in his lap. </p><p>Draco said, “It’s alright.” Draco sighed and looked down at his hands, muddied up in the roots of dandelions. His anger at his father drifted away, not forgotten, but no longer at the forefront of his attention. “The burns weren’t too bad anyways. Wide, but not deep.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled. His hands dropped, but quickly began twisting through the dandelions like Draco’s were. Draco noted the movement, but tried to ignore the implications of Harry’s mirrored actions. </p><p>“It wasn’t your fault,” Draco said softly, angling his gaze out to the gentle waving of the lake. “I was acting silly.”</p><p>Harry inhaled, held his breath, and then let it out in a noisy gust. “Why did you?” he asked, and then coughed. “Why were you acting like that? You seemed scared of me. Did I do something?”</p><p>Draco laughed aloud and shook his head. “You didn’t do anything.” The truth was that Harry had done something, and that something was existing. The truth was that Draco had realized he might fancy Harry Potter, and he couldn’t handle the notion. The truth was that Draco both wanted Harry to sit as close to him as he could, while simultaneously wishing him to disappear from the face of the planet. He said, “There were other things on my mind. Not your fault.”</p><p>That was partly true. There was Draco’s books, and his oddness, and his father to think about. </p><p>“I’m still sorry about it.”</p><p>“Okay.” They sat in silence for a long while before Draco said anything else. “Can I ask you something?”</p><p>“Yes,” Harry said, like he’d been waiting for Draco to ask that very question. </p><p>Draco allowed himself to breathe and sit. “You’re the gardener of the estateー”</p><p>“I am.”</p><p>“So why were you judgemental when I spoke to you about the meaning of flowers?” Draco held his breath, and waited. Waited for Harry to stumble and let loose a nonsensical answer that Draco would have to comply with, whether or not it excused his behavior. </p><p>“I wasn’t being judgemental,” Harry said. His words came fast, honest and without filter. He caught wind of Draco’s expression, and said, “I really wasn’t.” Harry glared down at the dirt caked into his fingers. “I was surprised, but I wasn’t judging you.”</p><p>“Why were you surprised?” Draco asked, although the answer was obvious. </p><p>“Because,” Harry said, “I didn’t expect you to… care. Not about flowers per se, but about anything. I expected you to be like your father.”</p><p>Draco rested his head down on his knees. “Have you met my father?”</p><p>“Once.” Harry exhaled. The lake lapped gently a couple feet away from their shoes. “I don't mean this as offense to you, but he doesn't care. Not about anything, except for maybe how much money his horses will make.”</p><p>“Why did you choose to work for him then?” Draco interrupted. </p><p>“Good money.” Harry shrugged. “Endless grounds to discover. It’s not like he comes here, so I wasn’t particularly bothered.”</p><p>Draco marveled at this, the fact that Harry wouldn’t be bothered. Draco was the type of person to be bothered by someone lacing their left shoe before the right one. </p><p>“Also,” Harry added. “I do care. I care too much about things, my parents always say. It bothers me when people don't care about the things that belong to them.” Harry laughed and shifted his position so he was fully facing towards Draco. “I didn’t think you would care. Nature and nurture and all that. But you… it was so clear in your face how much you did care, how reverently you looked upon these flowers that I believed to be dear only to me.” Harry laughed again and tipped his head back. Draco’s stomach dropped through the ground, and he stared at Harry unabashedly. No one had ever spoken to him in this way. “And you knew these things that I didn’t know, and all you wanted was to share this with me, without even knowing anything about me.”</p><p>“Iー” Draco began, but Harry continued over him. </p><p>“I’m not like that,” Harry said. “I’m friendly enough with people, but I don't much fancy sharing the things I love with people I don't know.”</p><p>Draco said quietly, “You’ve got it wrong.” Harry looked at him. “I don't share. It was a slip, telling you those things.”</p><p>Harry’s eyes squinted. “Well, I acted stupid when you were talking about it. I didn’t want to scare you off from talking about it. You don't say too much, you know?”</p><p>Draco scoffed. The words were oddly familiar, as Draco had heard them coming from Kit’s mouth barely an hour earlier. He wondered if everyone he met thought him to be so quiet. </p><p>“I tried not to act too eager about it,” Harry was saying. “But I scared you off anyways.”</p><p>Draco pressed his lips together. “Okay.”</p><p>“Okay what?”</p><p>Draco unpursed his lips. “Let’s put it behind us. It was only a miscommunication.” Harry’s eyes didn’t leave his. “And the tea spill was a silly accident.” Draco’s eyes flicked away from Harry’s. The dandelions he sat by had been pulverized between his and Harry’s digging. “No harm done.”</p><p>“I’d say some harmー”</p><p>“No harm done,” Draco said louder, and held out his hand.</p><p>This was a mistake. Draco’s stomach flipped in every direction, his heart beat too fast, the back of his neck was surely brick red. But Harry was sitting in front of him, looking at him, his knee almost touching Draco’s. There wasn’t a bone in Draco’s body that had enough willpower to turn away from this. </p><p>“No harm done,” Harry repeated, and took Draco’s hand. </p><p> </p><p>Later that night, there was a knock on Draco’s door. When he opened it, there was nothing there but a small paper bundle at his feet. </p><p>Draco kneeled and picked it up. The wrappings fell open easily to reveal a stem of purple lilac tied to a clipping of purple hyacinth with crude twine. </p><p>Draco wondered if the sender knew what purple lilacs and hyacinths meant. Draco most certainly did.</p><p>On the paper were four words.</p><p>
  <em> To Draco, from Harry. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are much appreciated!</p><p>This project is currently on hold. I will be continuing, but am just not in the head space to write new chapters right now. So sorry!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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